Suddenly Snowbound

My hosts, Mike and Margaret, tell me that part of the trouble with weather reports here is that forecasters can't really predict how fast a storm will move in. The thin air, the mountains, and other forces beyond the control of meteorologists make the predictions slightly better than a crapshoot.

Side note: What is a crapshoot? If you can tell me, you could win a postcard from Aspen....

Anyway, back to my story. This is what M & M told me Saturday morning, when the weather predicted two feet of snow by Sunday afternoon. Margaret also says she has done the math, and more than 14 feet - FEET - of snow has fallen since December. Of course, some has melted and then more has come. But that's a lot of snow in any case. The snow we heard about on Saturday didn't come until Sunday night, and then only in light fluffy flakes that dusted the cars in the front yard.

So when I left for my first day of work this morning, I was pretty confident that the "storm," such as it was, had passed. I headed to Carbondale to check out an apartment, which is a one-bedroom just off the main street. It was not unreasonable to worry that the woman I was meeting might be otherwise engaged... in labor. Her due date was today! Luckily, the baby was eager for her mom to find a subletter. The place is so pretty - a warm yellowy kitchen/living area, with a cute little stove and a huge fridge, and then a short hall to the bedroom with two large closets and between front and back rooms, a spacious and pretty bathroom. All in all, a sweet spot. The bedroom is a pretty blue-green. Yes, I am a sucker for a nice paint job. And I was so relieved to see how awesome it was, and that Meg (the mom-to-be) wanted to rent it to me, that I hugged her. I hope that did not cause her pain, but it was a pretty big hug. I left my number for Julietta the landlady to call, and set off for Aspen.

The drive to the station revealed two things: the brakes on the T-bird are a bit weird, although they do work, and the road was increasingly icy as I approached Aspen. But I made it in about an hour (thirty to forty minutes is the average, I'm told) and settled in by filling out paperwork and rearranging my desk. My story for the day was about an airport runway extension, so I headed out to the airport in the mid-afternoon. Roads didn't seem too bad, although they were nothing to celebrate either. Back to the station I went. Then I waited a long time for a callback which never came. By the time I vetted and voiced my scripts, the snow had started in earnest. The early morning reporter, Marci, came back in and told us she was planning to sleep at the radio station. I helpfully went out to the car and grabbed the pillow I threw in for the drive and never used. We trudged through at least 4 inches of fresh powder and snow that showed no signs of stopping. Marci got a sleeping bag from her trunk, dismantled the couch cushions, and headed for a back studio.

At this point I still intended to drive back to M & M's house. I had even picked up orange juice from the store for Margaret. Then Mitzi left and called minutes later to advise that I should probably think hard about the drive. I did, and quickly decided that weird brakes plus old car plus heavy snow plus MOUNTAIN equals, stay where you are, damn it! So I called Mike and told him I was staying in Aspen and not to worry.

"You're not here," he said, "And I was trying to think like your father... staying there is the conservative thing to do. We'll see you some time tomorrow." He also said I should enjoy the orange juice.

With that call taken care of, I trudged out to the car again, this time to grab a selection of warm clothes from the massive duffel bag still weighing down my trunk. I startled a young guy working late at the nonprofit next door to ask if he had a sleeping bag (he didn't, although he searched valiantly), and settled in for the big snow.

Even though it is late here, Marci and I aren't alone in the station. Volunteer DJs spin jazz all evening. Gary Whipple was hosting earlier, and we chatted about Toronto (he's from Rochester and visited Yonge Street in the '70s). He also walked in on Marci's makeshift room and then felt bad about it. She does have to get up early, after all. Now there's a woman here, and I have no idea who that is, but she seems a little distressed that she has company.

All in all, a very interesting first day. Now if you'll excuse me, I am going to go curl up on the other station couch, and wait for the snow to stop. And tomorrow, it might be time to see about some skiing.