As I watched London's storm of the century from the comfort of my home the other day, I realized this city has made me a little soft. Scranton is the land of the alpha male, where snow storms and biting cold weather are an opportunity to prove your toughness. When I was a kid, a snow day meant a quick breakfast then dawn to dusk outside, regardless of temperature. By high school, January ushered in Pennsylvania's annual three-week ski season. It was a time to use those rented skis to slide for 60-odd seconds down a hill of ice.. topped off by standing in line to brave those uncovered lifts- all in six degree farenheit temperature while sporting a pair of Lee jeans. After all, cool guys from Scranton didn't wear those girlie ski pants.
Even when I began working in New York City, those wintry days offered opportunities to prove my manliness. During the blizzard of 1996 I dutifully prepared to brave the 26 inches of snow to get to Manhattan from Hoboken and perform my menial research job. Dina watched from a distance in comic despair. Technically I only made it a few blocks before giving up and grabbing some food at the local diner - with Dina still laughing at me. Nonetheless, I was comforted in knowing I had given it the old Scranton try.
As the storm hit London late Sunday evening, however, my old Scranton instincts abandoned me. I arose at my usual 5:15 am, took one look outside, and like at least 20% of Britain, decided to call it a day. I convinced myself I had good excuses. Thanks to broadband, I can do my job from home. And the city of London can be pretty testing, even for the steeliest of Scranton males. You must remember, this storm of the century amounted to about seven inches of snow (the century thing is technically correct, as it was the biggest snowfall since 1991). It was also predicted by the crack BBC weather squad well in advance. Even so, the entire city of London shut down. No buses, no trains, no taxis, no planes. Businesses were running at 50% capacity. As the British press seized the moment, Mayor Boris Johnson first blamed the type (wet), then the quantity (a lot) of snow to rationalize London's inability to cope with an every day affair in many parts of Europe. It is a good thing that London opted to host the summer Olympics!
But even if good technology and crap London transport services made my decision to stay home perfectly sensible, I still feel a little wimpy. I suppose that I realized a part of me didn't want to scuff up my Cole Hahns and D&G overcoat. It also makes me wonder whether nearly 20 years of urban life has left me ill-equipped to turn my two little boys into the alpha males they deserve to be. The evidence thus far is not reassuring. Ranen is tough for a 4-year old. But he does have a thing for matching clothes (my fault) and an obession with germs (Dina's fault). On Christmas morning he showed up in his matching White Company cotton jammies and stopped me from eating the remainder of Santa's cookie for fear of my catching his germs. As for Gideon, London's storm of the century left a lasting scar. His natural curiosity got him outside. But after taking his first few steps in snow, he retreated to the house for the next two days. During that time he repeated the pharse "dark outside, snow, wet" and refused to go back out (check out the video below, which shows his chat with mom about snow).
So I am making a storm of the century resolution. It is time to regain my alpha Scranton self and toughen up the boys. I've decided to cancel the Ski Chalet in Chamonix France, buy myself and the boys matching Lee jeans and get three full-day lift tickets for Pennsylvania's Elk Mountain Ski "resort".................. Just kidding.
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A Scranton Boy in Chelsea
P.S. By the time I published this, Britain was experiencing its second major snow storm in less than a week. It mainly missed London, but somehow didn't stop the transport system from having massive delays. I should have stayed home - now I need my shoes polished.
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