True Tales Of Survival, Part I

As you may know, yesterday I traveled to Salem, Virginia for an interview. The good news is I made it in, albeit a bit late, and mostly beat the winter weather that was coming in. It snowed a decent bit throughout the night (maybe 5 inches or so) but no ice to speak of and the roads were fairly clear and eminently drivable this morning, so I figured I was good. I made it to the interview with no problem. It was shortly thereafter that I realized there was basically nobody else in the building except for the people I had come to interview with, and even they weren't all there. This was my first indicator that this is a region that Does Not Deal Well With Snow. My second indicator was when the person who was heading up the interview kindly offered to check and see if there were any earlier flights out of Roanoake that I could catch to beat the weather, and came back a short time later to inform me that my flight and pretty much every other flight out of the airport had been canceled and I wouldn't be able to get anything until Sunday morning.

Fuck.

I guess I figured that the worst thing that would come out of this winter weather deal was that my flight would be pushed back a few hours. Overnight, maybe. I didn't expect that the airport would give up the goddamn ghost so readily that I'd be stuck here an additional two fucking nights. Keep in mind that if airports couldn't function in snowy conditions, most of the Eastern seaboard and all the Northern states would be pretty well inaccessible during the winter months, which I'm reasonably sure is not actually the case. It's fairly obvious to me that the real issue here is a severe lack of moxie on the part of the region as a whole. I know it's harsh, but it has to be said. Here's a view of how the airport looked about an hour ago:



Definitely wintry, but is it really that insurmountable? Keep in mind that is isn't like they only canceled my flight; this airport is for all intents and purposes closed entirely. There wasn't even a person manning the rental car desk when I returned my car at 2:30 this afternoon, having made the decision that there was no fucking way I was going to pay an extra hundred bucks to keep it until Sunday. I found a hotel near the airport where the clerk cut me a deal for 65 bucks since I was stranded, although the receipt was ominously only for one night, leaving me to suspect that I'll get charged the full rate for tomorrow night, which is probably going to be something I'm not keen to pay. After I took my rental car back to the airport and put the key in the drop box, I walked back to my hotel to demonstrate to the people of this area what it looks like to bear up under unfavorable circumstances, and also because I didn't want to bother with the hassle of getting a cab. That of course assumes that the cab drivers in this town are on the job and not cowering under their beds because of the snow. Which seems entirely possible, given that even TGI Friday's is closed despite the fact that it's fucking Friday, and that ought to mean something sacred to those people.

I did have the foresight to make a run to Wal Mart before turning in the car so I could get some essentials (sandwich supplies, beer, a few apples) to survive the next day and a half, during which I anticipate being largely confined to this room. I also picked up a pint of ice cream just in case the booze wasn't going to be enough to comfort me during this period. It occurred to me that I'd need something to eat the ice cream with, and I think my solution to this problem adequately sums up my frame of mind at present:



Four spoons for a dollar? Seems reasonable. Even though I'm only going to use one of them, and only one time, you've got to power through somehow.

Seeing as updating this blog as a living document of my descent into cabin-fevered madness is one of a scant handful of options for occupying my time during this limbo period, be sure to check back for what promises to be a string of half coherent updates.