Is it just me or do you as well think of the old adage about blind squirrels and nuts when the television weatherheads actually correctly predict a major weather event? We are in the throes of the Blizzard of '10 here 'NTSG, which rolled into town on Wednesday dancing a Texas two-step. It sashayed on through early in the morning, took a bit of a siesta at or about midday before it came back with a vengeance in the late afternoon and early evening. At one point yesterday afternoon - while I was doing a little bit of clean-up following an exemplary and back-saving job of clearing the bulk of the first dump of snow that Frank's crew did for us - I was thinking about all of the idiots (and you know who you are) who ran around jumping for joy when we saw our first bit of snow immediately before Christmas. How do you like your white stuff now?
Yesterday was a work-at-home day for me. I have no issue driving in the snow but I have zero tolerance for excessively long commutes. The link to the office for me is Route 287. Once it stops snowing the guys responsible for clearing 287 do an incredible job. However, while it is still snowing it is a nightmare ride. It is a wide-open interstate highway across which the wind-blown snow rolls without cessation. Having decided that I did not want to spend six hours driving thirty miles trying to get home, I planned ahead Tuesday night and brought home with me enough work to keep me busy at home, which I suppose will prompt a reaction from T somewhere south of excitement when she gets to the office this morning.
While I was home I had the chance to watch the storm updates on the various channels. Hands down the best TV weatherhead in NYC is Lonnie Quinn on Channel 2. Between the constant talking with his hands and the Red Bull-fueled energy level with which he dishes the meteorological dirt, he is must-see TV. I actually found myself less pissed off than I usually am by a forecast with the word "snow" in it watching Quinn talk about what we were in for next. If I am going to be dragged downhill over a field of jagged stones with my pants pulled down around my ankles by the weather I might as well have a smile on my face as I bounce along.
We all suspect the same thing when inclement weather hits, which is that the TV weatherman - who is usually the local station's equivalent of the 98 pound weakling on the back cover of the comic book awaiting Atlas' shrug, sits in his dressing room on days like we had here yesterday with sweaty palms awaiting his big moment. Not so much with Quinn. Perhaps it is because he looks the part of the leading man already? I know not.
I know that on a Wednesday that was not a typical Wednesday due to the intervention of one bad Mother, I found Quinn's weather vignettes to be both informative and entertaining. George Carlin he isn't. But he isn't Kelly Bundy either and while a weather bunny is sure fun to look at, sometimes I just want to know if I need to pack my mukluks.