Holy unplowed borough, Batman

Working in the suburbs is a pain in the ass most of the time and a death wish when it snows. Five-hour trip to work: normal. Being run off the road by a guy in a fancy SUV that thinks the snow cares how much he paid for his car: normal. Returning to Brooklyn and wishing you’d stayed in the suburbs: what?

A newspaper job means that no amount of snow or natural disaster (read: Bush’s election to a second term) is an excuse to miss work. I drove in Saturday’s storm. I stayed in Westchester in a company-funded hotel room, not because they care about my well-being, but because they were afraid I wouldn’t make it back in time for work on Sunday. After 38 snow-filled hours in White Plains, an ably plowed and salted town, I returned to Carroll Gardens to find my worst nightmare: no parking due to gi-normous snow candies with car-filled centers.

Seriously, what’s the point of plowing if there’s still six inches of snow on my street and most people need a backhoe to get out of their parking spaces? Did they salt at all while I was gone? Should I check in to the nearest mental-health facility for wondering if I can afford an apartment in Westchester where they know what to do when it snows? WESTchester, people. Do you know how far that is from a subway stop?

Excuse the snow-induced mania, but I just looked outside and saw that it was snowing again….

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