Winter in the City ...

I just received an email from the one and only Mistress Jenn inviting people out for drinks tonight. Here it is, the first week of December, a few days before my Birthday, a new job beginning just after Christmas, stuck in my current job with extended holiday hours and a snowstorm on the way.

Snowstorms was another thing that lured me to city life. I remember several years ago, a former co-worker who lived in Center City Philadelphia talked about meeting up with friends during a blizzard and walking the streets, entering the only establishments that were brave (and smart) enough to open during such an event: bars.

I, at that time, lived in Delaware County, about a 20 minute drive from the city. During that same blizzard, I was stranded at home, my car buried under snow drifts six feet high, repeat sit-coms on the telly and my parents calling me inviting me to a party a few blocks away at one of their friends' house. Knowing that all of my city friends were out strolling through the winter wonderland that was downtown, I stewed a while longer in my mexican inspired (but not made) throw, staring at the images flashing before me on the television screen. I vowed then and there that I was going to abandon the suburbs and move into the city.

It had only taken a few more years, but I made it into the city. The blizzard of '03 was the first big time storm to hit and shut down the city since I had moved five years earlier and it was everything I had always imagined it would be. It was February 16, my friend's birthday. He was living in Jersey, but we had already decided that, since he worked in the city, he was going to take the train in and just stay overnight at my house. That way he wouldn't have to worry about driving in what was promising to be the "storm of the century".

It was a weekend storm, starting out late Friday night and snowing through most of Saturday. By the time we awoke Saturday morning, local television stations have all pre-empted their children's cartoon line-up in lieu of continuous coverage of the storm, with reporters stationed throughout the region, getting anyone and everyone's reaction, as if the information hadn't been already beaten into the viewers' heads for days leading up to that morning.

"This is incredible..."
"I have no food in the house..."
"I had no idea..."
"What am I supposed to do with my car?..."

Me? I was raring to get out and play. Like a little kid, I was up at the crack of dawn but my friend, who bartends and didn't get home until about 3am, was still sound asleep. I tried to be as quiet as possible as I walked throughout the house, putting coffee on, watching the t.v., staring out the window. By the time he had crawled out of bed and was standing infront of the coffee pot, I had already been outside twice and shoveled the walk clear.

We had already made the decision to just go and check out the city, walk the streets and take in the scenes. Once we made it to Rittenhouse Square, we were both amazed at how many people were out and about. The snow was still coming down hard and the wind was whipping it around, stinging what exposed skin there was on the body, but people didn't seem to mind. Automobile traffic was all but non-existent, as people treked through the streets, oblivious to changing traffic signals overhead warning them to stop (had they been driving). The surrounding skyscrapers were completely shrouded by the low ceiling and falling snow, making the only visible architecture the rows of victorian and colonial storefronts lining the avenue. Walking through this surreal cityscape, no towering glass structures, no cars or trucks blaring their horns, no visible blacktop street benieth the packed snow, the only tracks outside of footprints being an occational bicycle tire track, it all made me wonder if this was what it must've been like at the turn of the century, when families would stroll through the streets on a Sunday afternoon, dressed to the nines, fruit carts lining the curbs of the cobblestone streets, an occational electric streetcar clanging its bell in the distance.

As I wondered this, our travels brought us across town and to our first destination, Woody's, for an enormous cheeseburger and a beer. It was about 2 in the afternoon and the place was packed with revelers all out enjoying the snow (by being indoors with a martini). We ordered our food and drinks and chit-chatted about nothing in particular as we watched the overhead televisions with the continuing coverage of (cue menacing music): The Blizzard of '03.

By the time the sky grew dark and the streets were aglow with the ambiant glow of the overhead streetlights, my friend and I had walked to several bars and had several drinks. The snow was still coming down heavily and our stomachs were growling for something a little more substantial. My friend suggested dinner at Friday, Saturday, Sunday, a quaint little restaurant off of Rittenhouse Square. I was alittle short on cash and, seeing that it was his birthday, I didn't feel right about having him pay. He poo-pooed my objection, saying that, since he had lived in Florida for so many years, he had forgotten how much fun a snow storm was and that being with me made it the best birthday in years. He decided to treat for dinner and we headed back home to change pants and warm up a bit before heading back out into the storm.

I called the restaurant to see if they were open and to make reservations. We realized soon enough that reservations were not needed. Aside from us, the only other people in the place were the owners, sitting at an adjoining table. They bought us a bottle of wine and we ordered dinner.

It ended up being a fun-filled day of drinks, laughs, good food and good company. By the time we were leaving the restaurant, the city was completely quiet. Cars who's drivers were brave (or stupid) enough to drive were abandoned at odd angles along the curbs. The snow had stopped falling, save for a few drifting flakes caught up in the diminishing winds. In the distance, a rogue diesel engine of a snow plow can be heard moving through the streets, clearing paths for emergency vehicles. As we made our way home, I commented on this being one of the big reasons for me moving into the city. The burbs, as sprawling as the lawns may be, held you captive in your homes on days like this. The city allowed you to move about and rediscover things you normally took for granted.

Ironic then that I should be living in the city still and being stuck at work in the burbs as Mistress Jen is finding people to go have drinks with in the first snowstorm of the season.

(sigh...)