Good Sledding

TV newscasters warned viewers of Snowstorm Nemo’s danger throughout the end of the week. Families stocked up on provisions and elected officials prepared their states, cities, and town for the worst. After we shut the safe, Richie Boy asked if I wanted to sport-drink with him down in Battery Park City.

“My wife’s in Florida, so I’m a free man to hold hands with a glass of booze.”

“Me too.”

Our plans disintegrated as soon as we stepped out of the exchange onto 47th Street. The snow was two inches deep and the wind howled through the Diamond District.

“Sorry, Richie, but I’m drinking close to home.”

“Understood, see you Monday.” He was thinking about heading north to ski Vermont. I haven’t hit the slopes in this century. Living in Thailand most of the 00s had a lot to do with that.

After a less-than-brief detour to Cecil Taylor’s house on South Elliot, I reached the Fort Greene Observatory and called my wife in Thailand. Today she put our youngest son into school. Fenway was getting old. This summer he will turn 5. He has never seen snow.

I told him that I loved him and said the same to Fluke, Noy, and Angie.

Sleep came without any resistance and I dreamed of making money from my screenplay BET ON CRAZY.

It’s taking more time than I thought, then again a story about a goy involved in a mysterious disappearance of diamonds on 47th Street isn’t BATMAN VI.

In the morning I woke to a white Fort Greene. Snow devils skated across the rooftops and the windows shuttered with gale force winds. I went to the local farmers’ market by fort Greene. Only a few vendors had braved the weather, however the slopes of the park were crowded by children sledding on a wife array of sleds. Everyone was having a good time in a time of good sledding.

Back home I conducted a brief survey of the media fear-mongering about Nemo’s death and destruction. Two motorists died on New England’s icy roads and a half-million people were without power. Two a day is the normal rate of fatal car accidents for the six state region, so the media is once more alarming people to grab hold of their wandering attention spans.

Tonight the skies are clear.

A thin magenta band of light separates the deepening hues of blue before the fall of night.

A siren sounds in the distance.

It’s probably the cops.

They like to get everywhere fast no matter what the weather.

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