The Best Part of the Snowy Day

Being that I'm originally a New England girl, I always am slightly enamored with those rare - I can name three, now, in six years in the city - days where you can actually walk on the streets and it doesn't matter; red light, green light, there will be no cars anyway, because so much snow is piled up on the ground that only the occasional plow comes through. And there are more people on the streets than on the sidewalks, which are still uncleared, and everyone is sort of beautifully embracing the quiet that that much snow for some reason engenders.

I also live not so far from Central Park and should have looked into the park itself, but I just haven't felt up to things like that these days. Starbucks on Columbus Avenue did feel a little like ski lodge, however, with people coming in wearing snowpants, goggles, and all types of florescent colors that are only acceptable in such settings. I love ski lodges, because there's a strange type of solidarity that exists there, and I liked the extraordinary feeling I had inside an ordinary Starbucks. And moreover, I hadn't been to that particular Starbucks since December, and the man behind the counter still remembered me, and my order, recognizing me even as bundled up as I was.

But my favorite moment of the day was none of these - it was during my round-about walk home while I was meandering along one of those side blocks and hearing two pre-teen voices behind me speaking to a lady clearly not outfitted to dig her car out of two feet of snow. "Hey, lady, 10 bucks to help ya out." I looked behind me and saw one African-American and one Latino boy prepped with shovels, real gloves, and a charm I found so irresistible I couldn't stop listening to the interchange. The lady was obviously taken aback by their very presence. She refused, in a tone that almost ruined the beauty of the moment for me, but then the boys continued: ok, 5 bucks, lady. She still refused, saying she didn't have the money (OK, but you keep a car in front of your townhouse, right?) but the boys, undeterred, were already moving on, having spotted a young couple attempting the same task. They crossed the street with their shovels, having had their offer accepted, and as I slowly made my way to the next avenue, I looked back one more time. All four of them were working together, the boys so intently, and all four were chattering and laughing about something I couldn't hear. And I did think to myself: only in New York.

It made my afternoon.