A sheet of white covered the streets of Annapolis, Maryland last Friday and Saturday as far as the eye could see. As far as radar could see for that matter. Accuweather declared we would be "paralyzed, mauled and punished" by the blizzard which dumped a solid two feet of snow upon us. My romantically, snuggled-in, productive weekend was not going as planned. The internet was down and I hadn't found the motivation to be constructive in a myriad of warranted ways. The final straw was Nat having to walk into work. The thing about Annapolis is, when there's nothing else to do, you can always walk for drinks.
Just my luck, Kristen and Jud had been doing that very thing and afterwards they decided to pop 'round our place. Realizing I was about to be alone for the evening I opened a bottle of wine faster than Kim Kardashian can come up with excuses as to why Reggie Bush hasn't proposed yet post Super Bowl win, and enticed my friends to visit longer. It seems they weren't in the mood to venture home anyway and before I knew it, we were in the basement of Ramshead Tavern with wine, baked brie and sugar-coated Jeremiah Weed shots. I'll break for the Night Notes because it's around this time that I remember Kristen questioning the hour...
Snowpocolypse at Ramshead and Stan and Joe's 2/6/2010
Julie: I can't WAIT until we die! (Don't worry, I don't really want to die, this is just in hopes that when we do die, there is a video of our life highlights waiting for us to shine some light on hazy moments)
Jud: Harry Bradams.
Kristen: Please tell me it's at least 10.
Jud: It's 8:87
Julie: We're gong to be soooo hungover.
Group Effort: A martini is just a big shot...that you sip.
Kristen: Don't piss on your hat. (she didn't really say this, I just thought she did.) And also, ladies don't say piss. (I agree. Ladies should not say "piss.")
Jud: It's not over until somebody goes face down in the snow.
Kristen: Scuba Sarah.
Kristen and Julie: To Jud making us get in a fight about a trash can. (Apparently, from now on, whenever K & I drink, it seems we will come back to the ultimate downfall of our roommate break-up being because of Jud's big trash can.)
I'm going to skip over all things that happened at Stanley and Joseph's aside from the fact that there were more shots taken than any two people our size should ever take in a nights time and that it wasn't pretty. Also, switching to Gin and Tonic does not magically make it summer.
While I do not condone or recommend that anyone ever in life should get into the vehicle of someone they don't know while getting ready to stumble walk home in the aftermath of a blizzard just because said person is the operator of a seemingly snow capable piece of machinery, I also can not in good conscious say that I did not do this. To the best of my memory we began our wintry walk down West Street when a fine upstanding good samaritan offered us a lift. After carefully checking his credentials, and verifying he was quite sober, giving him a bleary eyed grunt, we politely and gracefully climbed into the backseat on our hands and knees surely leaving a mess of snow everywhere. I seem to recall a snow spewing donut take place before a bumpy slip sliding off-roading style adventure through downtown Annapolis. I can bet I said things like, "Wheeeeeeeee!"
I awoke sans pink razor phone and favorite pink hat (and still without internet) leaving me completely out of touch with the civilized world. And definitely beyond words hungover. I'll find out the next day Kristen has my hat, but she is now without her glasses. Furthermore, after the good samaritan (angel sent from above) dropped her and Jud off, she promptly face planted it into the snow. Who knew Jud's premonition would be right on?
It is now Wednesday evening. It has been four days since said adventure. Our cars are still not freed from our tiny streets and I am operating on a phone from 2003 which holds the phone numbers of many ex-boyfriends and fancy ringtones of yesteryear, while Kristen still has no eye glasses. And the snow continues on as we speak. As of last count, another 9 inches has been delicately, slowly, tediously and deliberatly placed on top of our previous 2 feet. But don't worry. There is no alcohol in my future. Just plenty of snow puns.