The last Snow Plow – A lyric opera in 6 parts

I’m going to tell you a short story.  Consider it like a race report.

It starts with me scheduling a meeting in Dallas for my new role, like two weeks before I even am in the new role.  I’m psyched.  Because I love traveling and I love meeting new people and I love adventures.

As I’m packing to go I look at the forecast for Dallas so I can pack the right running gear.  The hotel I stay in there has this nice sidewalk around a man-made lake and I can’t wait to get out of the freezing cold New England weather and actually run in shorts!

But…much to my consternation and surprise the weather is forecasted to be in the 20’s on the morning I’m going to be there.

My plan was to fly down in the morning.  Have a half-day meeting, take these guys to dinner, work in the office the next day and fly home the following afternoon.

And you know how plans go.

I was only going to be there for a day so I didn’t want to pack all my winter running gear.  I’d just do a session on the treadmill in the hotel.

The flight down was a dream.  Covid was surging through the middle of the Greek alphabet with abandon across the heartland.  My drive into the city was a breeze.  No traffic in the apocalypse.  My flight was empty.  I got a bunch of work done.

It wasn’t even raining in Dallas as I got my Uber over to the office.  But there was a big storm coming.  It was going to rain, and maybe even, gasp, snow!  And it was going to be int the 20’s.

The end days were upon Texas.

I didn’t really care.  You know what we call 20 degrees and snowing in Boston?  We call that Tuesday.  Sometimes Friday.  Sometimes I’ll wait until 10:00 AM for the weather to WARM UP to 20 degrees before I go running.

We got through the day ok.  By the time we were driving over to dinner it was raining pretty hard.  And my phone was telling me that by 8:30 PM the temperature would fall below freezing and that’s when you want to be hunkered down inside somewhere.

Because as soon as the mercury drops below freezing in Texas everyone starts driving their cars into each other.  Like one of those end of the world movies that are popular now where everyone goes nuts and starts killing each other.

My boss gave me a ride back to the hotel.  I did what any sane New Englander does in a storm.  I went to the bar and asked what kind of IPA they had on tap.

That’s about when I got a text message from Delta that my flight had been cancelled for the following day, but, hey it’s ok, we rebooked you on another plane the next day.

Yeah it was ok, but my 2-day trip just turned into a 3-day trip.  But it was good IPA.

When I woke the next day it was starting to feel like the end times.  It had froze over night.  There was an inch and a half of ice on everything. The temperature was 20 degrees and the wind was howling.

Didn’t look like I was getting into the office.  But, If you’re going to be stuck, you might as well get stuck in a Marriot.  I had power and internet. I’ve been working out of one of my spare bedrooms for 2 -years.  This room was about the same.

Texans pride themselves on their independent self-reliance.  But, the trouble with an ice storm is they don’t have the tools to deal with it.  Cowboy boots, a ten-gallon hat and a 30-odd-6 rifle don’t’ help much when your pickup truck has to climb a hill in and inch and a half of ice.

They have no plows.  Well maybe one or two plows.  They have no sand or salt to treat the roads.  They have no de-icing equipment at the airport.

They have a lot of elevated cement highways filled with people who have never driven in the snow.

Towards the evening I was getting a bit of cabin fever and didn’t want to eat in the hotel again.  I figured, hey, I’m from New England I’ll just walk the ¼ mile to the nearest restaurant.  I put my fuzzy hat on – I always travel with a fuzzy hat.  I had my suit coat.

I stuck my head out the front door and the wind was howling and everything was covered with ice.  I made the smart decision, turned around and went back to the bar.

The same staff in the same clothes were still on duty.  They were all sleeping in the hotel as well.  I made sure to tip well.

Delta had me on a 7:00AM flight out the next morning.  How was that going to work?  How would I get to the airport when Uber wasn’t available, even with the exorbitant surge pricing.?  I started ttry to figure out how to reserve something so I could get up at the crack of dawn and make a break for it – when Delta magically canceled that flight too and rebooked me to leave in the afternoon.

What a relief. That would give me all day to get to the airport and give the storm a chance to move on.

Now 3 days into my 1 day trip I worked another morning from the hotel.  When the appropriate break in the ceaseless zoom calls came I called an Uber and made a break for the lobby.

My Uber driver was an emigrant from Minnesota who drove a Jeep Cherokee.  Well worth the surge pricing.  There was literally an inch of unplowed, untreated ice on every road.  He took it slow and stayed off the brakes.  We avoided the plethora of accidents and I happily found my self at DFW and I might just make it home.

I wasn’t banking on it.  I was fully prepared to sleep in the airport.  Wouldn’t be the first time.

But no, the plane was on time.  Another empty flight.

It got me back into Boston around 10 pm.  And guess who met me at the airport when I landed?

The same giant ice-storm I had just rode out in Texas was now meandering across the Northeast.  Mid-20’s and raining with the temps plunging below zero overnight.

So, you know what I did?  I drove home and went to bed.

It’s New England.

And that is my Dallas disaster story.  Fairly boring and uneventful.

Everyone was pretty tired but we didn’t resort to cannibalism.