In the bathtub of history the truth is harder to hold on to than soap . . .
Throughout all of October and November, I wished and wished and hoped and hoped and prayed and prayed for snow. Did it snow? A few times. Enough for them to close the campus? Never. Not even close. Not until last Saturday.
The one week when I want to go to school (because I'm damn well not going to come in NEXT week and make up the classes) the weather turned to shit. And it wasn't just cold and snowy. It was snowing like I was dreaming of a white Christmas and someone thought they'd get a head start; and it wasn't just cold, it was somber-faced weather men telling me to keep my kids, dogs and grandparents inside cold. It was how-much-you-wanna-bet-your-car-won't-start-cold.
So, with my car dead of hypothermia and frozen solid to the drveway on Tuesday, I assumed that they'd cancel class. Which I felt mighty ambilvalent about, but what the hell. But do they? DO THEY? I work for an institution of higher learning in the state of Colorado. It's Ward Churchill's state. It's Gary Barnett's state. (It looks like we're FINALLY going to fire him.) In short, we're like the post-office. Not rape allegations, nor crazy instructers, or even corrupt coaches and alcohol related deaths will shut us down. Certainly, we won't close for a wittle itty blizzard.
Which left me, minus my car, at my parent's house trying to work this all out.
"Take the truck," said my dad.
"The ass-truck?" I asked. *looking out the door, trying to make out the neighbor's house*
"Yup."
"The one with the tricksy brakes?"
"Right again," he told me. "Buh bye."
I checked to make sure that he hadn't gone and, oh, put weight in the back of it. A couple of sandbags, wood, cinderblocks, anything. But no. Bed of that truck was as light as a feather and my confidence in my ability to survive the evening just went through the roof.
Getting there wasn't so bad. At least it was still light.
It was later on that it all went to hell in a 1986 Nissan 4x4.
I knew that things were going to be shady when I caught the news on the radio and the traffic guy said, "If you're not wearing ice skates or driving a zamboni then get the hell off the roads."
Unfortunatley, I still had about 7 miles to drive.
I got onto Hwy 83 and couldn't see for shit. Just vague red spots that I guessed were brake lights. That suddenly got brighter and closer. Fuck me. So, I panicked and hit the brakes. The tricksy ones. And did I slide? Well, not forward, at any rate.
The ass end of that truck spun me right back around. Yeah. SO I WAS FACING ONCOMING TRAFFIC. All I could see was a wall of lights coming at me. Truly? It's a miracle that only one lady hit me. She hit me hard enough to push me and the truck (bed first, of course) into the ditch. Where I was - you guessed it - promptly stuck.
Nice person, though. I couldn't see her car, but she said the damage was minimal and since the police were on cold-delayed-major accident reporting or whatever (where you don't have to report it unless there's alcohol, drugs or injuries) we decided just to leave it. And me. 'Cause I was IN THE DITCH. Having visions of dying from carbon-monoxide poisoning caused by keeping the truck running while I waited, in vain, for someone to rescue me.
After an incomprehensible (and very loud) call to the dad in question, I managed to do the shift-rock-shift-floor it thing until I kind of lurched back into traffic.
Both me and the truck are fine. It has a couple of dents and a smashed headlight and I'm afraid to go near it or that particular road, but the trauma will pass, I'm sure.
Also, I would like to take this chance to take back all the nasty things I ever said about my students this year. Just for today.
My boss stopped me in the hall this afternoon to let me know that during an advising appointment yesterday a student requested me for the 102 section and that she was duly impressed. Plus, today? I got cookies, cards AND a Korean ornament. Along with numerous hearty "Merry Christmases."
I'm desperately trying to resist doing the Sally Field Oscar speech.
As an aside, I feel that someone should mention that in Saturday's game against the Heat, Melo threw a basketball into the stands and hit a little girl in the head with it. He was only fined $5,000. He also had to sign something for her. The funny part? She didn't like him to begin with. She's a Boykins fan, and after she shot down Melo, she got herself an autographed Boykins jersey.
The one week when I want to go to school (because I'm damn well not going to come in NEXT week and make up the classes) the weather turned to shit. And it wasn't just cold and snowy. It was snowing like I was dreaming of a white Christmas and someone thought they'd get a head start; and it wasn't just cold, it was somber-faced weather men telling me to keep my kids, dogs and grandparents inside cold. It was how-much-you-wanna-bet-your-car-won't-start-cold.
So, with my car dead of hypothermia and frozen solid to the drveway on Tuesday, I assumed that they'd cancel class. Which I felt mighty ambilvalent about, but what the hell. But do they? DO THEY? I work for an institution of higher learning in the state of Colorado. It's Ward Churchill's state. It's Gary Barnett's state. (It looks like we're FINALLY going to fire him.) In short, we're like the post-office. Not rape allegations, nor crazy instructers, or even corrupt coaches and alcohol related deaths will shut us down. Certainly, we won't close for a wittle itty blizzard.
Which left me, minus my car, at my parent's house trying to work this all out.
"Take the truck," said my dad.
"The ass-truck?" I asked. *looking out the door, trying to make out the neighbor's house*
"Yup."
"The one with the tricksy brakes?"
"Right again," he told me. "Buh bye."
I checked to make sure that he hadn't gone and, oh, put weight in the back of it. A couple of sandbags, wood, cinderblocks, anything. But no. Bed of that truck was as light as a feather and my confidence in my ability to survive the evening just went through the roof.
Getting there wasn't so bad. At least it was still light.
It was later on that it all went to hell in a 1986 Nissan 4x4.
I knew that things were going to be shady when I caught the news on the radio and the traffic guy said, "If you're not wearing ice skates or driving a zamboni then get the hell off the roads."
Unfortunatley, I still had about 7 miles to drive.
I got onto Hwy 83 and couldn't see for shit. Just vague red spots that I guessed were brake lights. That suddenly got brighter and closer. Fuck me. So, I panicked and hit the brakes. The tricksy ones. And did I slide? Well, not forward, at any rate.
The ass end of that truck spun me right back around. Yeah. SO I WAS FACING ONCOMING TRAFFIC. All I could see was a wall of lights coming at me. Truly? It's a miracle that only one lady hit me. She hit me hard enough to push me and the truck (bed first, of course) into the ditch. Where I was - you guessed it - promptly stuck.
Nice person, though. I couldn't see her car, but she said the damage was minimal and since the police were on cold-delayed-major accident reporting or whatever (where you don't have to report it unless there's alcohol, drugs or injuries) we decided just to leave it. And me. 'Cause I was IN THE DITCH. Having visions of dying from carbon-monoxide poisoning caused by keeping the truck running while I waited, in vain, for someone to rescue me.
After an incomprehensible (and very loud) call to the dad in question, I managed to do the shift-rock-shift-floor it thing until I kind of lurched back into traffic.
Both me and the truck are fine. It has a couple of dents and a smashed headlight and I'm afraid to go near it or that particular road, but the trauma will pass, I'm sure.
Also, I would like to take this chance to take back all the nasty things I ever said about my students this year. Just for today.
My boss stopped me in the hall this afternoon to let me know that during an advising appointment yesterday a student requested me for the 102 section and that she was duly impressed. Plus, today? I got cookies, cards AND a Korean ornament. Along with numerous hearty "Merry Christmases."
I'm desperately trying to resist doing the Sally Field Oscar speech.
As an aside, I feel that someone should mention that in Saturday's game against the Heat, Melo threw a basketball into the stands and hit a little girl in the head with it. He was only fined $5,000. He also had to sign something for her. The funny part? She didn't like him to begin with. She's a Boykins fan, and after she shot down Melo, she got herself an autographed Boykins jersey.