16 Inches

Last Friday Mizzou announced its first snow day in eleven years. My roommate woke me up at eight that morning with the words "I think school might be cancelled." Somehow those words brought me awake faster than my alarm ever does. I checked my email, and yes indeed, school was cancelled. "Awesome." I thought. So I called Lukas to share the good news and then went back to bed.

I got up for the second time and meandered down to eat a sort of brunch. Unfortunately, the snow had interrupted the delivery of Krispy Kreme donuts, and just about every other food source. So I had cold cereal.

Now, the problem with snow days is that when school is cancelled there is usually a reason. I found this out as I tried to make my way to the parking garage. Somehow I was under the misconception that snow did not enter parking garages, a notion that was quickly dispelled when I saw the large drift behind my car. Still, I managed to get the car out, and by 11:30 Lukas and I had all our stuff loaded. At this point Mike calls, asking if we want to hang out and watch a movie. Sorry, I tell him; we're headed home. "How are you going to get to St. Louis with the highways closed?" he asked. Uummmmm, I respond.
Since sources varied as to what state exactly the highways were in, we decided we might as well kill a few hours hanging out at Mike's apartment. But I was loath to park the car in the garage again, and wade off campus in sixteen-inch snow. So I came up with the "brilliant" idea to try and park in Trowbridge, the huge field-like parking lot right of campus.

The road into Trowbridge was clear enough, but going through the lanes began to get a bit sticky. I felt very sorry for people whose cars were parked here all night; getting those out would be impossible. But I see a lovely spot that some Jeep or something managed to pull out of, leaving it perfect for me to pull into. Or so I thought.

I head for the spot (only three down in the row) and all of a sudden I'm not going anywhere. I push harder on the gas, and hear the smell of burning rubber. I look at Lukas and Marcus. "Um, I think we're stuck." I had grounded the car on a huge patch of ice and snow.

The boys tried to push the car, with zero success. Lukas suggested just leaving it, and going to Mike's. I flatly refused to leave my lovely car somewhere where it could be hit or towed. So they hiked off to Mike's to see about getting a shovel, while I stayed with Lirael (that's our car's name).

They came back a bit later, plastic bags flapping around their ankles as makeshift boots. Mike and Mark came along to help, and Mike (bless him!) had two ramps to help get the car out. With the five of us (plus two ramps!) we got the car out after about forty minutes.

But the adventure doesn't end there, oh no, not at all. While this saga was unfolding, there were other people attempting similar feats. Some kids in a jeep came and went, but the two guys in this one car were trying with no success during the time we were getting our car out (maybe that's cuz they only had one guy to push, while the other had to steer). The poor guy pushing looked enviously at our ramps, and asked if he could borrow them. So, after we had Lirael safe and sound, we started working on digging their car out. Even with seven of us now (plus the ramps!) it was another hour before we had anything resembling success. Another girl in an SUV offered to tow the car; that only resulting in her getting stuck as well (though she was able to get out after detaching the other car). Then a group of eight more guys showed up, and we practically lifted the car out.

So Lukas and I finally left Columbia at about 2:30, both very tired, cold, and hungry (plus I had the additional burden of feeling stupid). The highways were terrible--covered in snow and ice. We were going about 25 when the speed limit is normally 70. We go about ten miles, and all of a sudden I here this ding! and a message comes up that says "Check tire pressure." With my typical OCD finesse, I completely panicked. I envisioned that we had somehow managed to puncture all four tires; that we would be stuck in the middle of nowhere, etc, etc. The ride to Kingdom City (the next main town, about twenty minutes from Columbia) was grim. When we got there, we stopped a gas station and filled up the car. Of course my credit card's magnetic strip wouldn't work, which is a whole different story. Meanwhile Lukas had called my dad to ask how to check the air pressure in the tire. To make a long story slightly less torturous than what we endured, I had to go back and buy a tire gauge, which proved that, yes, indeed, our tire were low. We eyed the air pump with uncertainty; it was hardly plowed and we had just come from hours stuck in the snow. "Not again," I groaned. We make it to the pump, and it’s frozen solid, of course. The instructions told us to stick it into the tail pipe to warm it up. "That can't be right," I tell Lukas. Of course, my knowledge of exhaust pipes is limited to vague horror stories of carbon monoxide poisoning. We finally get it warmed up, but after "filling" them up, Lukas realizes he didn't do it correctly. So we have to go back into the gas station to clarify. When we come back out: the pump is frozen again. Arrrgg! So we repeat the entire process.

Finally we're back on the road, and starving at this point. We tried stopping at the McDonalds next to the gas station--which was completely closed. Finally, about half an hour down the highway we find an exit with a McDonalds. We exit, and find that all the stoplights are down and police are directing traffic. Could we hit any more bad luck?!?!?

Since I can't torture you all with any more detail (I've had to write this in three sittings), I'll just sum it up by saying that we finally got home, safe and (mostly) sound at 5:30. That's later than it would have been had we had classes. I'm not sure what the moral of this story is; maybe "Lee Anne is a misadventure magnet," "Determination alone will not get your car over sixteen inches of snow, or even " always bring food in the car." Or I could jut leave it open to interpretation.