Dear Boston,
The first snow of the winter season has arrived – well, at least the first true snow – the first extended and unrelenting snow – that shall not melt away within a matter of hours – or perhaps days. It continues to fall through the afternoon hours of this day, December 20, 2009.
Inside the famed Black Rose in Boston’s Fanueil Hall, in the early morning hours of this fine day, I took one last sip from my vodka tonic as the lights came on and illuminated the little faces that surrounded me. Accompanied by a pensive wonderment at what the scene outside would hold for me, I made my way to the downstairs.
“There’s no storm coming, it’s a bunch of B-S,” one Bostonite had eloquently declared earlier in the evening, I now recalled. However, this soothsayer was not to be. As I descended the stairs, my gaze became locked into the glaring whiteness that had overtaken the urban landscape.
Wide-eyed, drunken sailors and schoolgirls scoffed at my scarf as I wrapped it about my head in preparation for my voyage back to the West End. I had worn my most elegant black shoes this evening – the fine Italian leather would now endure a true test. I made my way outside. The faces of the enigmatic urbanites were even smaller now, and small sticks now burned from several of their mouths.
I said my goodbyes to all these snowmen and women and began to trudge through the fluffy muck that adorned the curbsides. The wind was fierce and the small flakes of cold, tasteless candy turned to liquid as they fell upon me. I made it all the way to the parking garage at Haymarket. It was there that I placed a few phone calls – including one to my accountant – and then attempted to bribe an attractive small face for a ride home.
Unsuccessful in these toils, I re-entered the wintery paradise, encountering nothing but additional snows and winds. I jogged the last 5 minutes, working a thin sweat that chilled my skin upon meeting the breeze.
When I finally made it to my building, I grappled the outside walls, ascending the 24 stories in a marvelous feat of shear brawn. I made it swiftly to the rooftop and found a small platform where I would take refuge for the next several hours.
I howled like a beast as I awaited the mothership.
