For once we had a white Christmas, one that began the day after Christmas and lasted until now. At first no one cared much about the snow. The weathermen always overestimate the amount of snow. Besides, snow is easier to deal with than ice.
Then the snow began to fall — rapidly.
The streets filled with snow. What we had shoveled just a minute ago refilled with snow falling from the sky and blown by gusting winds. Cars were either buried in snow or washed clean by the sweeping winds. On Monday morning we awoke to a quiet, snow-covered neighborhood. Later, as we ventured out into the white expanse, we realized that two feet of snow was not something to laugh about. Without plowing, the streets were impassable for even a 4-wheeler which tried for more than half an hour to escape the snow-filled street.
We hoped the plow would come; we thought it would surely come.
The MTA announced severe delays, and the lines by the bus stops grew longer. Some gave up on the buses entirely and carpooled, sometimes with strangers, down to the subway station. When a storm strikes everyone feels the same pain.
On Tuesday morning the plow still had not come. With a retreat to attend, we had no choice but the shovel our way out.
The streets of Flushing were crowded with people, cars, buses, and snow. The main streets were passable, but most of the side streets were still unplowed. By the time we returned on Thursday, our street had still not been plowed.
What has happened to our New York City government? Is this really the greatest city in the world?
What a way to end the year.