Well played, fish, well played.
The Nor'east, which we are not in except for hockey, has been under a major French Toast Alert all week. But Western New York still had a belated shot at the hellish breakfast: B-lo and Rachacha both started getting warnings of its own poorer relation of coastal storm Nemo. Starting overnight! Foot or more of snow! Treachery on the high ways!
And me, with three midday appointments 70 miles to the east- one long scheduled and fairly important.
I made calls late yesterday during the still-calm-before, and nobody wanted to reschedule unless we had to. We'd take the weather's mighty pulse in the morning.
Which we did- when Little Nemo was looking like a big wuss. I had wakies from 2-3:30 a.m.- no snow. Animals up at 5- nuthin. Up for good moments past 7, and hey! Serious snow!... for maybe 10 minutes.
No biggie- couple inches tops, it seemed. I called east and heard it was 40F and even sunny. So I turned down Eleanor's offer of the 4WD truck and made my usual drive east through 45% dry, 45% rain, and finally, maybe the last five miles, with a little snow forming and sticking.
There were two quick appointments before the main one- one, I suspected (and was right), the guy wouldn't show up for, since he owed money to a client of mine and had been subpoenaed to my office in Rochester to lay bare the assets of his company, which we'll call XYZ Co.
. The other, with a nice client, went quickly, and I had enough time before the main event to make bank deposits and even grab lunch. Nemo West was still Nemo Wuss- a little on the pavement, but no need to even clear the car. We'll be fine.
By the time the final client intake ended a bit before 2, though, the outdoor Main Event was on. The appointment was about four miles east of the office on two multilane highways (441 and 490, if you're keeping score at home), and it took about 25 minutes to get there. Snow WAS now requiring clearing, both before and during the brief drive, and cars were turning sideways and crashing in both directions. My client somehow both lost and passed me in the brief trip.
There followed almost 3.5 hours of hell, as the snow kept coming down. Somewhere in there was an email from Eleanor- she
, fortunately, had the all-wheel drive for a brief lunchtime trip to her PT office, to get a vampire-proof note about the scope of her ongoing physical condition, and she needed all four of those controlled wheels for the idiots on Sheridan, North Forest and Park Club. We, meanwhile, finished our review of 120 different receipts and came out to a winter not-so-wonderfuland- and
to word that they'd closed the 90 between exits 46 (where I was) and 50 (where I was going).
Fortunately, the client works at a local hotel. I was checked in, fed, given a room with Jeopardy! and a lounge with Internet (the phone's charging- in my car, since of course I don't carry an AC charger for it when I'm only away for the day).
The hotel's up a hill that I barely got up and have no intention of trying to slide down until plows finally get here by morning, by which time the worst is promised to be over on both ends. I've also been promised a full breakfast by the professional staff here, the specialty of which is, what else?,... French toast.
Oh, and the final kick in the pants du jour
? We stayed off the expressways on the way to the hotel, instead taking Route 96 into Pittsford. First, though, I passed a gas station, at which I saw a truck at one of the pumps. Driven by, or at least on behalf of, the selfsame owner of XYZ Co. who'd stood me up almost seven hours earlier. Any less treacherous conditions and I'd have blocked his exit and demanded where the hell he was at 11 a.m.- just the look of shock on his face would've been priceless::evil grin::
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