Taxiing at Reagan, the undercarriage of the tiny regional jet was making squishy rumbling noises just like the noises a car will make sometimes driving over crusty, icy snow. Why was there still so much snow on the tarmac, 45 hours after the snow had stopped, and with what I’m assuming are the best deicing chemicals known to man? And why, a hands worth of hours after the airport had reopened to commercial air traffic, was there not utter mayhem in the terminal? Long lines at the checkin and TSA checkpoint were what I expected. The smoothness I experienced instead is bewildering.

PHI didn’t seem as ugly or as stinky as usual to me. I may have been in a terminal I haven’t seen before.  One weird thing I noticed as I stumbled around (I had nearly 3 hours to kill between flights): all the mens bathrooms had a mirror running across the wall above the bank of urinals. What design genius thought this one up? I hope I speak for the better part of men when I say I have zero interest in staring at myself in the face while I urinate, let alone making accidental eye contact with my neighbors. PHI never fails to disappoint.

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I think I’ll go on a bender tomorrow.

After posting about shoveling snow I had some lunch. Then I went out to shovel again and just when I was finishing up, maybe quarter past four, the sun decided to make an appearance.

“Augh!, it burns!”, I screamed into the white silence. “My eyes!”

Anyone want to make a bet on whether I’m getting out of here tomorrow?

I shoveled my parents driveway twice last night. In total I scooped up something like 7 inches.

I rolled out of bed this morning, took a shower, had breakfast and opened the garage door to encounter another 12-14 inches or something like that (no, I am not a meteorologist).

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