Friday, December 19, 2008

My Two-hour Vacation on the 441

I felt like I was gearing up for battle today as I faced the first Boston blizzard of the season. I silently nodded my head in solidarity with the other "soldiers" I passed on my way to work. Dressed in long puffy coats with fur-lined hoods and black boots, we looked like Eskimos on our way to fight ... whoever it is that Eskimos fight. I don't know, do the Russians give them any trouble?

In any case, by 2:30, the snow was coming down hard in the North Shore, and it had already been snowing in Boston for well over an hour before that time. I was the only dumbass in the office who had an hour+ commute--by bus no less--followed by a 30 minute walk. I wanted to at least navigate the blizzard by the light of day, so I figured I'd get a little mercy and be able to leave a couple hours early.

"Well, the company is still open, so you'll have to take vacation time."

"Huh?"

I couldn't believe it. Besides the fact that our governor announced a state of emergency today, asking that all non-essential employees stay home, I hadn't had anything to do for five hours, aside for checking boston.com for updated weather news every two seconds and PerezHilton.com for any sudden zany Britney Spears news, of which there has been a depressing lack of lately. Apparently, I'm more essential than I thought. Who knew that checking for comma splices and serial commas was actually some kind of fricking big deal. Certainly not Perez Hilton. His grammar is atrocious.

So I grudgingly agreed to take the vacation time to brave my way home through heavy snow blowing, at times, as fast as 40 miles per hour in my face every step of the way. "I'm on vacation!" I yelled as I slid on the sidewalk, stumbling off of it as the snow had already accumulated so that it was impossible to tell where the sidewalk ended and the road began. This was the worst vacation ever. I didn't even have a rum drink in my hand.

By the time I got home, three hours later, I was wet, cold, hungry, and cranky. As far as vacations went, this one blew. Luckily, I had a bottle of Sailor Jerry's on hand to rectify the situation. Technically I was no longer on vacation and now onto the weekend, but it felt good nonetheless. Only two-and-a-half months to go of this. Oh wait. I'm in Boston. Better make that five.