Not once, but twice. Twice did I get my car stuck yesterday in the Great Untasty Icee that is our Pittsburgh streets.
I didn't hear the full story of the reason our fair city was allowed to become a geographically-diverse, mud-and-salt-flavored Snoopy Snow Cone... Though rumors reached my ears that Mayor Skippy, our pimple-faced Frat-Boy-In-Charge, was off rockin' his 30th b-day outside the 'Burgh and forgot-- in the frenzy of pinatas, pints and ponies-- to call home and let loose the plows.
(I don't actually believe that, of course. He'd also need a clown who made balloon animals to truly distract him.)
Anyway, as it was, I've been driving around with a snow shovel as my co-pilot. It sits in the front seat and doesn't say much... occasionally tries to mess with my stereo and I have to slap its handle.
Ice Encounter One, during the morning commute, had me grateful that shovel was there and could earn its keep instead of just trying to change my CDs.
I'd made the mistake of obeying a stop sign at a four-way stop, where traffic was coming from all angles. And that one moment of Good-Doo-Beeness and Not Crashing turned out to my downfall. I was well and truly sunk.
But as I turned around with a curse on my chapped lips and my third shovelful of seasonal muck, there stood two burly truckers, guys delivering to a local business. Who, with nary a word, unwedged my little car from the arctic slop and sent me on my way waving.
Cheers, guys! You are My Saviors of the Snowbank.
Then evening came, and I'd fled work with visions of pajamas and pot pies in my head. And that's when impatience and a polar ice cap brought me down to earth again for Ice Encounter Two.
This time, not only did I manage to get the car stuck, I managed to do it in a way I was blocking every single one of my coworkers who'd parked in our lot from leaving to go home.
Yes, if you're going to do something stupid, it's good to do it big and inconvenience as many undeserving people as possible. That's my motto!
(Wordy, yes, motto-wise, but I haven't had time to edit it down.)
Now, it turns out my colleagues-- much smarter than I in the ways of winter and not-sticking-- were able to use their knowledge of Advanced Slop Physics, and Nascar, and Driving Better Than Jenn to help me unwedge from Predicament Two. And they were far more good-natured about it than I ever would have been to me, I might add.
So seeing as it appeared to be a full-office exercise in teamwork, I really need to reward these good people with some sort of goodies for their help. (As any office drone knows, nothing says, "thank you" like free food.) Only I realize that I'd probably have to drive to do it. Making way for the unfortunate possibility of Ice Encounter Three.
Not happenin'.
So, perhaps when the snows melt a bit and the birds begin to sing their song, I can do a proper old-fashioned office "thank you." One that fully expresses how much I appreciate their good cheer, their effort, and their not letting me freeze to death in the alley like Jack Nicholson in The Shining.
I must choose something that will make them happy. That will emphasize the joy they gave me. Yet it must be symbollic.
I can just imagine the look of surprise on the cashier's face as I order 20 Rita's Italian Ices to go.
Stay safe, folks!
_____________________________
Humorbloggers
