Click to use the Talking Dictionary 12. The Calm before the NYC Blizzard (3)


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12. Anyway, as I look south toward the beltway, the visibility is getting worse. I can still clearly see the cars traveling on the beltway, which is about 200 yards south of our apartment building. The flakes are really putting on a show, dancing around, coming straight toward the window and then turning right or left or up or down. In fact, going by the "layman" definition of blizzard above (you can't see your hand in front of your face), I don't think I'll even consider this a genuine NYC blizzard until I can't see the church right across the street. The sloped roof is about 60 feet from my window, which is much greater than arm's length, but for me not to be able to see it in broad daylight would amaze me.

At the moment, 12:40 p.m., the roof has a patch of snow about 8 feet vertical by 4 feet horizontal. That's going to change, I'm sure. Okay, I've said too much, and I've said too little. I just want to put this online. I hope to do a follow‐up later, called The Calm after the Storm (not very original, I know). Even though this is a second‐rate, faux blizzard by the standards of Buffalo, and many other northern cities throughout the world, hopefully there will be no loss of life and no power outages.

It's 1:14 p.m. I just heard the first strong gusts of wind shake our windows.

It's 1:44 p.m. I just heard the wind whistling.

It's 12:20 a.m. Hello! Where's the snow? Where's the storm of the century? Of the month? The weather service, the computer models, and the meteorologists—they all have egg on their face. Now they're predicting maybe 12 inches. The blizzard, more fizz than blizz, is heading west right now. It's in central Long Island. So, it should hit "parts of" New York City in the next hour or so. I'll believe it when I wake up tomorrow. This monster storm was such a sure thing. You could have bet the farm on it. The sure‐thing has become a no‐thing. This is another example of the boy who cried wolf, the chicken who said the sky is falling. We, the people, say: Fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me. My faith in weather forecasts has gone down yet another degree. 5.3, 400


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