This one was not a bust. It came for us! In that you can trust.
(And things almost got a bit dangerous for some pedestrians, like me. Read on down, about where the biggest snow was like the icing on the cake, concerning its ability for removal.)
I got victimized for not doing so, as in trusting, in the gray midweek afternoon. That’s following the latest predicted snowstorm, which actually hit this time. Fools like I had been lulled to sleep by the apparent shoveling that was taking place and the fact that we’d not yet been fully prepared, mentally mostly but also physically and emotionally, and especially budget-wise and planning-wise, for a near blizzard in early November … Here and there, but not everywhere in the city, had shovels been quickly turning.
— We would get more Staying-Alive-while-walking-I-Will-Survive faces bewildered by my face plants from tripping over my feet, in coming days, with the temps below zero. Maybe 10,000 Days worth. With partiers in T-shirts and less. We’ve kinda-outta-season even had feet long icicles, despite it being too cold for melting first. And my new-home-owner nephew in early November faced working snow blower issues. So can’t virtually speaking move thick snow, by conveying virtually I think, transactions online done virtually that same snow day. What wasn’t virtual, was it being supplied free through the help of a co-worker. Helps to know engineers. And mom had heating issues over the entire most icy eve, until her furnace then kicked in, but not until late morning, with a little help fixing from the tech’s cold hands. She just has a Christmas wish that it lasts the winter. Or two.
Reports said that some municipalities in the Twin Cities, even larger ones, had budgeted for four such blizzards a season, and we’ve already had two. My mom this month had been having multiple turkeys and the like looking in her patio door. Notice the past tense. Too cold for strutting or walking, unless you have boots made for it, like a cat or dog, keeping it the family’s pet kinds, but too cold for consideration of continuing this comparison — although I could …
A text I sent to another, who replied he passed the word around like a holiday bird, read that in the Green Bay-Denver football game, there would almost certainly be snow on the field no matter who was hosting. Or just cold turf? Some pre-holiday air travel has been shut down, and even ICE buses likely had to return to their base, as they could not get much further than the county line with their deportation. Depends which direction they go. Through Chicago? More in-county miles. Just stay in Hudson and train. Haha.
As Sunday turned into Monday, at midnight, the city plows had been through and there were only three cars parked on the main drag, which had not been ticketed. (There was lingering a big wisp of snow, presumably at least in part from the plows, drifted over onto the sidewalk in front of Mallory’s.) But still, the occasional siren wailed. —
The morning after the winter storm warning, that saw a few straggler flakes, the downtown was digging out after close to a foot hit, depending where you are, and it would prove too much for my feet. The sidewalks were mostly clear on the main drag of Second Street, but just a few people in the late morning still were turning the spades, making it a good reason to shop downtown. There were people to be seen already around town, and not just the clerks but shoppers and a few barflies. (I volunteered to help the last person standing, in front of such a place, but she declined, as she’d only a few more scoops although large to make.) No ice cream scoops.
In Minnesota, just over the river, traffic even on the main roads was at a crawl early in the day of this snow emergency. One professional driver said he only made it seven miles during one particular hour, in the Cottage Grove area.
— By the middle of the next day, virtually all walks and lots were cleared of their snow, although just for a first pass or two. Like comparing main traffic arteries to side streets, where there’d been cars parked, the snow was still present at sideways angles to bumpers. As I finish this typing, just before bar close, I can hear nearby the sound of backing beeps, as plows pushed away what was left. —
Then on the snowday, there was the busiest part of The Hill in Hudson. Some walks were clear by late afternoon, or at least a foot-wide path made on which shoppers could sorta scurry, but other walks were still buried, in what was a drag only a mile from the main drag. The cash registers were not really at full throttle for this time of year, with just a handful of strays taking a break at Buffalo Wild Wings, all at the front bar and none at the dozens of tables, however a filled circular barrail was found at Green Mill, but virtually no one dining by use of table seating. Still, some were snacking at the bar itself, but because of the busyness there even the fast-moving staff was having a bit of trouble keeping up, and in one case a woman who did not get her appetizer brought before the pizza complained and ended up receiving a free drink or two. On the other side of me another woman was telling her companion a long and detailed sad story of losing a battle with a plow, so to speak, and I interrupted the speil by pointing out that on the TV news, they were dealing with such a matter at the moment in St. Paul, to lead off their nightly coverage. “Hey, you could be telling your tale on there!” But it would make for too much time elapsed. She chuckled at my joke, then continued chattering …
Anyway, in this general area the snow was thick, especially if you were walking further westward. The same spot where a drift duster had proceeded along in the previous week but didn’t remove snow underfoot — as also pointed out by my cabbie, and you know it’s one of the three occupations where they know everything going on for miles — this time had crossed the snow and laid it down. Only a fine dusting of fickle flakes remained. (My barber and bartender were not available for comment.) But I was going to patronize another grocer, up the street, and it was the same news, only with thicker tires making their mark where the rim had nearly touched the snowbank. Places existed where plows big and small had pushed the crusty stuff up against a curb about where it made a 90 degree deviation, resulting in a pile of the stuff almost as tall as a person by some corners. They even did it for temporary where-with-all in places where it could be a no-no, like up to fire hydrants, as an example, as hey the snow will melt. (But a few feet away, you might see another sideway still pummeled with icy snow.) That’s where things got treacherous as pedestrians had to either try to hurdle the big snowy mass, or wade through it with two or even three footsteps driven down deep before the crest. I fell three times trying to negotiate such conditions, and once while hoofing it along the icy shoulder instead.
The worst dilemma of these types occurred at the southeast corner of Stageline Road with its relatively light traffic and the behemoth that is Carmichael Road — where there is no good place to push a button for a “walk” arrow. At this intersection and another nearby, for the seldom used route I was taking there was either no button for going a particular direction, or one almost buried with a snowback, especially out front at the point sidewalks criss-cross.
But the worst was still ahead, when heading due south along the west side of Carmichael. A parking lot or two offered for a better journey, but then at a sidestreet the snowbanks remained basically impassable. Thus I fell for the first time. A guy all bundled in a hooded parka was trudging the other direction. I could see his face enough to tell he’s a Mexican. Hey, wading along between two restaurant districts, he might be used to having made walking hard labor. Despite me tumbling in front of him, he was unphased and just smiled a bit, all in a day’s work for him. It was maybe unnecessary for me to tell him I was OK and not hurt by the fall. A white guy, who couldn’t jump either, would be pissing and moaning.
After about 100 feet, I was very tired and decided to try the shouldered edge of the street. When signals sent traffic toward me, I turned to face it and leaned against the snowbank to at least increase the distance between me and the cars to almost three feet. I’d walk, quickly, when the traffic flow ebbed and I could make some headway. Eventually I dared the make brief spurts on the street itself. When I got near the left turn lane, and the plows hadn’t yet paid any more attention with their snow-producing patterns, I felt the safety distance narrow and thought I might be in danger of being struck, so I went back to the deep-snow sidewalk, with the piles getting higher as I approached my destination, near another intersection and increasing because of the greater square footage created by the turn lane.
When I made it back to the main parking area, to do some shopping — thank God I timed it right and did not have to carry significant groceries a bit earlier — and once done my cab was running late, so it was a welcome factor to take turns not in a road, but standing in front of a heater in the store’s entryway, and then ducking out to check if the cab had come yet.
I did several of these short flips, and toward the end a man who apparently was just off his work shift walked up and turned off a switch. Did they turn the heater off!! That would be like killing Kenny. Actually, even though I was in a side entrance that would close in two hours, the switch was on a machine that was the size of a small Cub Cadet garden tractor — and had a broader purpose besides providing heat. After eventually picking up my grocery bags set next to a short street light and climbing in the vehicle that finally arrived, I couldn’t stop telling the cabbie not my whole story, but fixating on trying to find words for a size comparison for that wayward machine! But his wayward machine was the gas tank, which seemed to be needing more gasoline than is reasonable and required a fill right at the moment he was scheduled to pick me up. But pushing the limits of the needle on empty was not an option.
As I was not his last fare. We had to jog back the other direction for a priority ride, that being a disabled man in a wheelchair. I had known him from years ago while writing for the local paper, and remembered doing a story or two about things like him and family being key advocates for disability rights — indeed some of those who were behind the push for having this kind of affordable public transportation. It took him a moment, but the man remembered me also. So I was able to catch up on things because of the fact the ride had caused a slight reshuffling of schedules, turning my head as he needed to be strapped into the back part of the van. I’d not been to the house that was the destination for many years, having done at least one interview there. The trip around and about also gave an opportunity to look at wonderful Christmas lights in more than one neighborhood, on either side of the freeway and up behind the high school, in places where they really deck the halls and more. Some decks were really decked out, one overseen by a lighted cross in the lategoing.
But another key question here is why the streets and crossings are designed as they are, and where they are, for pedestrian accessibility. For instance, there are some major intersections where you cannot by-the-rules cross all four different ways. The planning needed to be retrofitted where too many streets come together at a single place, one of them being a freeway frontage road and ramps, and not the kind helping disabled people enter buildings. It goes back to the era when the failed local greyhound racing track needed traffic accommodations for a foreseen influx of visitors. One wonders what it would be like if the track stayed in business.
By the middle of the next day, virtually all walks and lots were cleared of their snow, although just for a first pass or two. Like comparing main traffic arteries to side streets, where there’d been cars parked, the snow was still present at sideways angles to bumpers. As I finish this typing, just before bar close, I can hear nearby the sound of backing beeps, as plows pushed away what was left.