PDX snow days: Not always what they’re cracked up to be

When winter descends upon Portland and the metropolitan area, there are many responses to that somewhat uncommon occurrence that falls from the sky: Snow. That cold white stuff blankets the landscape we are so familiar with and sends everyone into a fit of one sort or another.

As many Portlanders are somewhat painfully aware, snow is not a plentiful natural luxury afforded in Multnomah County. However, when it does happen, the responses range in spectrum from a giddy child-like euphoria to a terror-stricken trauma. It just so happens that various local governments around the East County are more on the side of panic and tend to start closing schools willy-nilly.

“Yay,” shout school children as their glee at getting even a single day off permeates their sleepy minds. I can remember this feeling, the elation at 6:30 a.m. when I see my school scroll across the news and proclaim it closed. The delight at snatching a few more hours of sleep and then the seemingly untold wonders that would be available to my friends and I, at least for a few hours that day before the inevitable meltdown.

That was then — but now it’s much a different story. I still wake up at 6:30 a.m., and again see the flash alert on phone telling me that school is closed through slightly sleep-deprived eyes. Instead of glee, relief floods through me, a few more hours of sleep. Sounds familiar, yet this is where things begin to differ. Whereas during childhood, a day of snowman and snow-fort construction, sledding, snow angel flailing and manic snowball fights would ensue, the adult world brings different “delights.” For me, it consisted of more time to work on my pile of homework. Yay?

However, a day of cozying up to my textbooks with a mug of tea in some comfortable clothes doesn’t sound so bad, right? That is until you get a call from work asking you to come in because your milquetoast co-workers can’t seem to drive to work through the half-foot of slush. Then the smiles fade and reality snaps back. But wait — there must be a silver lining here too. More hours means more money and that can only be a good thing, says the logical and painfully self-aware side of one’s brain. Plus, if one’s co-workers can’t get to work, maybe there won’t be as many customers to handle. Light load at work with extra hours? Choice!

Then, as rubber hits the slush, a hard fact of snow day PDX hits you: people can’t drive for shit in the snow. Ever. Even when the road is completely clear of all varying levels of frozen water, people are still terrified that they will lose traction due to the minute amount of water loitering on the road. Hence, they will collectively strive to not break the self-imposed 25 mph speed limit. This drives the extreme minority of commuters, who are confident on the road, crazy. While PDX drivers cause disdain on a good day, one short jaunt across town on a snow day turns into a sluggish excursion and will cause outright rage. The all-encompassing need to freely throw bricks with strongly worded notes attached at such drivers is a hard urge to fight.

Once the destination is achieved much later than usual, the easy-as-pie shift awaits. Right? Wrong. While at first, the flow of patrons is merely a trickle, the aforementioned melt takes hold and the flood of hungry customers (I work in a restaurant, so bear with me) simultaneously suffering from cabin fever descends upon us. Lord have mercy.

Ten hours later, my shift is over, my homework is still undone, I smell like grease and sweat and . . . the snow is all gone. No wallowing in the flaky wonderland for me. Only toil and trouble and slightly grumpier, if somewhat better paid, me. That, and the ever-unsatisfied desire, to throw bricks.