My Imperfect Storm
by Brad Manzo

 

The impending snowstorm was destined for historical greatness.  Meteorologists (or fortunetellers - as I like to call them) were predicting the collision of two powerful storms resulting in the Northeast becoming blanketed with snow.

I personally loved the idea. It combined two things that I thoroughly enjoyed - snow and the possibility of a day off from work.  As soon as I heard about the two monster storms coming to our neck of the woods, I began checking the weather channel every hour. Each prediction was bolder than the next. Comparisons were drawn to the great blizzard of 1888.

I became a bright-eyed 12-year-old once again (though my wife argued I never stopped being a 12-year-old). I drew up a mental list of all the things I’d do on my day off. First thing I’d do, of course, is sleep late. Then I’d make an enormous omelette before heading out to the video store and renting the entire Jackie Chan collection. In reality, I knew if the big storm hit, I’d spend most of my day shoveling and the rest of the day complaining about how sore I was.  However, indulging myself in the fantasy was far more exciting than reality.

As the storm grew nearer, my excitement level rose to a fever pitch. The local weathermen, who I had previously mocked, were now my best friends and brilliant, to boot.

“Everyone’s predicting this one, honey,” I told my wife.

“You’re still going to work,” my wife replied.

I knew in the back of my mind that I should never trust the local weather people. As I liked to say about meteorologists, “If I did my job right only 50 percent of the time, well, I’d be out of a job.” However, this storm was too good to be true. 

 As a light flurry began to fall, I started telling my wife, “I told you so,” about every fifteen minutes. After a couple of hours of just snow flurries, the weather reports began to vary slightly. Some forecasts were still predicting two feet, but others were discussing the possibility of that dreaded ‘change over to rain.’ I remained strong and defiant as the flurries continued to fall.

As the night wore on and conditions began to get a little icy, my hope was renewed. I began to step outside every half-hour to examine the weather first-hand. I figured I’d stay up late to watch the glorious snow come down. Besides, I probably wasn’t going to work the next day anyway.  

I finally went to sleep around one o’clock. At about five, I woke up to see the results of the ‘perfect storm.’ I couldn’t believe my eyes - less than two inches of snow had accumulated on the ground. I threw on whatever clothes I found and ran out the front door.  I became so frustrated that I kicked the air and cursed in frustration. As I kicked with my right leg, my left leg slipped on a patch of ice.  I lost my balance as both of my legs went up in the air. I then hit the pavement with a tremendous thud. I threw my back out again. I crawled back to the house, unable to walk. It looked like I was going to be home from work after all.