The Nor’easter-That-Shall-Not-Be-Named


After being battered by Sandy, the city is now in the grip of a Nor’easter till midnight. (This system doesn’t get named since it’s not a tropical storm.)

I missed it on my morning commute because it didn’t arrive till 9 but the day got worse pretty quickly.

It looked dank and windy by mid-morning and when I looked out at the inner courtyard in the late afternoon,

the wet snow was coming down hard and coating the trees, shrubs, and tiles.
 
I was still hoping I could walk home like I usually do; a few seconds of being slapped by snowy wind and feeling the slick streets under my sneakered feet dashed the hope.

As I struggled to take off my little Target mittens so I could take these photos, they were drenched almost immediately; putting my numb fingers in them was like adding ice cubes to ice cubes. It was hard to look up while walking as the wind blew the snow right into our faces but I managed to make it to the station without mishap.
            

In Jackson Heights, the wind seemed less pushy but the snow lay groggily on umbrellas, sidewalks, and cars.

Walking without boots over soggy ground gets unpleasant pretty quickly irrespective of one’s tolerance for cold weather. So when my sneakers started to make squishing sounds as I hurried home over the six blocks from the station, I started to worry about getting frost nip, which seemed horribly embarrassing somehow. I could visualize the headline: Woman survives Midwestern Tundra for 12 years but loses toes to first day of New York winter.

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