There are times in your life when outside forces push you to your limit and challenge you to your very core. These are the times that teach you how strong you really are.
Last weekend was one of those times...well, kind of...in a way.
For those of you who haven’t heard, on December 19th, we experienced the worst snow storm the DC area has seen in 100 trillion years (although, the man I sat next to on the metro a few days ago told me there was a storm about 10 years ago that was, in his words, “much, much worser” and, to be completely honest, I trust his opinion more than the Channel 7 weather team’s data).
From our 8th floor apartment window I watched helplessly as the snow accumulated to 50 feet ...or maybe 50 inches…or maybe 20 inches (in small section of West Virginia) and the gale force winds whipped up snow drifts as high as a tall building...or a car...or a small dog.
Then there was the aftermath of the storm: Arlington, a city/county in chaos.
Lack of Resources: As the snow was finally settling late Saturday evening, my brave boyfriend ventured into the savage wilderness in search of pre-prepared nourishment and found a measly 1 restaurant open -1 restaurant! Fortunately we both like Thai food but what if we didn't? huh? What then? What were the hungry young professionals of Arlington to do?
Scavengers: As of 4 pm on Sunday afternoon the grocery store had been wiped clean of essential products such as skim milk, potato chips (even the Safeway brand) instant hot cocoa mix and microwave popcorn. Yes, they still had Diet Coke, thank god.
Breakdown of Communication: On Sunday, desperate for world news, I braved the snow drifts and un-shoveled sidewalks, making it to CVS only to find that every single copy of People Magazine was gone…and US Weekly…and InStyle.
Isolation: Unable to drive to church on Sunday as normal, I took the metro and had to wait over 20 minutes for a train! 20 whole minutes on that cold, lonely platform.
Ok, it’s an indoor station so it wasn’t actually that cold, but it was lonely because Arlingtonians try really, really hard not to acknowledge one another.
But, despite everything, I made it through and, in the face of the fear and the devastation of the Storm of The Century, I even made it to work on Monday morning. Not many people can say that (ahem…federal government).
Sure, some of you will now make the point that the building I live in and the building I work in are technically connected by a parking garage. Yes, it is true that I don’t actually have to go outside in order to get to work. I would argue, though, that focusing merely on the physical challenge involved in my being at my desk at 8am is discounting the mental challenges of such a feat. People outside the DC area, those of you in Minnesota for instance (Mr. & Mrs. DeGriselles), who have never lived through a real winter storm may not completely understand the strength required to not just survive a catastrophe of such magnitude, but to also pick yourself up afterwards and get back to work.
It’s a strength I didn’t completely realize in myself until I saw, with my own eyes, the terrifying effects the storm had on one who apparently does not possess that same strength of mind.
After spending a morning at work (unlike some people - cough cough - federal goverment), I ventured back into the frigid 38 degree cold (33 degrees with the wind chill, thank you very much) and across the parking lot to visit the little store on the bottom floor of my apartment building to pick up my lunch time banana and diet coke. The only other person in the store was a gentleman who was picking up his drycleaning and attempting to purchase a bag of Doritos, bologna, and a Mountain Dew. He also appeared to be having a bit of a meltdown.
I couldn’t completely tell if the source of his frustration was (A) the fact that his total bill rang up to more than he would have liked, not uncommon at the little store where a box of Wheat Thins is approximately $6 or (B) The fact that the credit card machine was down. Either way, there was swearing and I think maybe a tear or two.
On a normal day, listening to a 25 year old man carry on like a 2 year old about having to take out a loan to pay for Doritos, would have tried my patience. It would have been difficult to avoid pointing out any combination of the following observations, all of which add up to the question “how bad can your life really be?”:
-You are grown man and you are having a temper tantrum.
-You are still in your sweat pants, Nike golf t-shirt and slippers and it is nearly 1 pm on a Monday.
-Judging from the number of dress shirts in your drycleaning, you have a job and don’t have to be there due to the sunny, clear, 38 degree, “inclement weather”.
-You are doing your grocery shopping in your slippers, which, I would think, warrants paying what I would consider a “convenience fee”.
-Unlike you, I am at work today and would like very much to pay for my overpriced banana and diet coke so I can get back to my job, but I can’t because the cashier is waiting for you to stop yelling and pay for your lunch meat.
Yes, on a normal day I would have considered pointing out these observations, however, the extreme circumstances of the previous weekend led me to hold my tongue and withhold judgement.
He was simply a victim and was still dealing with the demons.
I guess not everyone is as strong as I am.
Maybe he doesn’t like Thai food.
Last weekend was one of those times...well, kind of...in a way.
For those of you who haven’t heard, on December 19th, we experienced the worst snow storm the DC area has seen in 100 trillion years (although, the man I sat next to on the metro a few days ago told me there was a storm about 10 years ago that was, in his words, “much, much worser” and, to be completely honest, I trust his opinion more than the Channel 7 weather team’s data).
From our 8th floor apartment window I watched helplessly as the snow accumulated to 50 feet ...or maybe 50 inches…or maybe 20 inches (in small section of West Virginia) and the gale force winds whipped up snow drifts as high as a tall building...or a car...or a small dog.
Then there was the aftermath of the storm: Arlington, a city/county in chaos.
Lack of Resources: As the snow was finally settling late Saturday evening, my brave boyfriend ventured into the savage wilderness in search of pre-prepared nourishment and found a measly 1 restaurant open -1 restaurant! Fortunately we both like Thai food but what if we didn't? huh? What then? What were the hungry young professionals of Arlington to do?
Scavengers: As of 4 pm on Sunday afternoon the grocery store had been wiped clean of essential products such as skim milk, potato chips (even the Safeway brand) instant hot cocoa mix and microwave popcorn. Yes, they still had Diet Coke, thank god.
Breakdown of Communication: On Sunday, desperate for world news, I braved the snow drifts and un-shoveled sidewalks, making it to CVS only to find that every single copy of People Magazine was gone…and US Weekly…and InStyle.
Isolation: Unable to drive to church on Sunday as normal, I took the metro and had to wait over 20 minutes for a train! 20 whole minutes on that cold, lonely platform.
Ok, it’s an indoor station so it wasn’t actually that cold, but it was lonely because Arlingtonians try really, really hard not to acknowledge one another.
But, despite everything, I made it through and, in the face of the fear and the devastation of the Storm of The Century, I even made it to work on Monday morning. Not many people can say that (ahem…federal government).
Sure, some of you will now make the point that the building I live in and the building I work in are technically connected by a parking garage. Yes, it is true that I don’t actually have to go outside in order to get to work. I would argue, though, that focusing merely on the physical challenge involved in my being at my desk at 8am is discounting the mental challenges of such a feat. People outside the DC area, those of you in Minnesota for instance (Mr. & Mrs. DeGriselles), who have never lived through a real winter storm may not completely understand the strength required to not just survive a catastrophe of such magnitude, but to also pick yourself up afterwards and get back to work.
It’s a strength I didn’t completely realize in myself until I saw, with my own eyes, the terrifying effects the storm had on one who apparently does not possess that same strength of mind.
After spending a morning at work (unlike some people - cough cough - federal goverment), I ventured back into the frigid 38 degree cold (33 degrees with the wind chill, thank you very much) and across the parking lot to visit the little store on the bottom floor of my apartment building to pick up my lunch time banana and diet coke. The only other person in the store was a gentleman who was picking up his drycleaning and attempting to purchase a bag of Doritos, bologna, and a Mountain Dew. He also appeared to be having a bit of a meltdown.
I couldn’t completely tell if the source of his frustration was (A) the fact that his total bill rang up to more than he would have liked, not uncommon at the little store where a box of Wheat Thins is approximately $6 or (B) The fact that the credit card machine was down. Either way, there was swearing and I think maybe a tear or two.
On a normal day, listening to a 25 year old man carry on like a 2 year old about having to take out a loan to pay for Doritos, would have tried my patience. It would have been difficult to avoid pointing out any combination of the following observations, all of which add up to the question “how bad can your life really be?”:
-You are grown man and you are having a temper tantrum.
-You are still in your sweat pants, Nike golf t-shirt and slippers and it is nearly 1 pm on a Monday.
-Judging from the number of dress shirts in your drycleaning, you have a job and don’t have to be there due to the sunny, clear, 38 degree, “inclement weather”.
-You are doing your grocery shopping in your slippers, which, I would think, warrants paying what I would consider a “convenience fee”.
-Unlike you, I am at work today and would like very much to pay for my overpriced banana and diet coke so I can get back to my job, but I can’t because the cashier is waiting for you to stop yelling and pay for your lunch meat.
Yes, on a normal day I would have considered pointing out these observations, however, the extreme circumstances of the previous weekend led me to hold my tongue and withhold judgement.
He was simply a victim and was still dealing with the demons.
I guess not everyone is as strong as I am.
Maybe he doesn’t like Thai food.
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