Snow, something I daydream about during heat waves. Nothing is more cinematic than watching snow fall gently into New York’s tough sidewalks. Living in sunny California, the only snow I see is up in the mountains from a safe distance and playing with a snow globe, of course.
I miss living in New York and it’s seasons. Snow is something I always looked forward. The best feeling is walking out of my apartment and seeing the stoop buried in the white powdery stuff. The sound of my shoe crunching against the snow was the perfect accompaniment to my ipod’s groovy sounds. I never bothered with an umbrella as my hair was covered in snowflakes.
The best place to experience snow is Central Park. It melts slower than the rest of the city. It’s a vast winter wonderland, which would inspire Bing Crosby to come back from the dead and sing “White Christmas” all over again. Snow is pure. However, living in snow also has its pitfalls.
Black snow is a secret enemy of the avid walker. While walking on the Upper West Side, I excitedly bought a coffee off the truck and was meeting a friend. I’ve always walked fast and hate being stopped by a slow pedestrian. While power walking after heavy snowfall, a mom and her baby carriage blocked me. I maneuvered past her. I felt triumphant, while walking up 72nd & Broadway.
Unfortunately, black snow broke my successful maneuver. I slipped and fell in front of the busy Upper West Side intersection. The mom walked up to me and asked if I was ok. I answered sure, just a small fall. The biggest tragedy was spilling my newly purchased latte all over my winter coat. I got up, dusted myself up and bravely walked to Riverside drive.
However, dangerous it is to walk in snow. Nothing beats nights where blizzards hit the city. While most Americans hibernate during a snowstorm, New Yorkers hit the bars. I’ve had wonderful memories of having drinks with friends on the Lower East Side. The majority of the city’s twenty-somethings cram bars between 14th and Delancy Street. Walking out a bit buzzed makes the snow fall experience ever more dramatic.
The art of living in the Blizzard ends around March/early April. New Yorkers like to complain about how snow slips from pristine beauty to a slushy mess. The melted stuff comes rolled with leaves and stained in brown and yellow.
They always say don’t eat the snow in New York. I did once; it tasted like flavorless Italian ice. Obviously, I stay away from the yellow and brown stuff. Living in snow, is one of the world’s simple joys. It brings people together at apartments for hibernation dinner parties; bars and neighbors work together as a community to make the streets walk able. Remember don’t power walk during or after a blizzard, while holding coffee.