Speeding Toward

Sometimes, you are absolutely filled with elation, expectation, exaggeration. I usually feel that way when I'm with Zoe and Nicole, my two girls from ro ma ro ma ma ga ga ooh la la. They picked up me on Friday morning. Nicole was in full form, clad in a black cape and sunglasses, pulling over to stop at Hop Deli for the elusive elixir we call Everclear. "It's illegal in Pennsylvania" she said, pulling 12345 bottles from the shelf. The ethnic men behind the counter raised their eyebrows. I threw in some bubblegum and we were ready. In the car, we talked shop, catching up on the intricacies of days and nights post European glow. That evening, we made some punch and put on some music and danced for hours at Nicole's loft, a converted tobacco shop (is that right? it was something industrial). The next day, Zoe and I set back on 83 South in what we hoped would be a therapeutic joyride. How wrong we were. We were on the highway, the snow falling quickly as we sped south. All of a sudden, from the white powder, we saw a car stop dead in front of us. Slamming on the breaks, we stopped short right behind said vehicle. The snow settled to reveal cars for miles. All of a sudden, rescue vehicles, ambulances, and fire trucks pulled up, men in neon walking through the cold. We were told to wait patiently, and yes, it would be a while. With typical acumen, Zoe went to the trunk and got us some goodies: a romance novel, a map of the world, and an italian book. We unbuckled our seat belts and proceeded to have ourselves a grand old time. We read dramatic scenes from the epic text "Silk and Steel," I played Katherine, a virginal bride, while Zoe read for Lucien, a man of silken hair and quivering member. We took breaks every now and again, to use qtips, to unwrap a new piece of gum, to pee in cups. In the middle of so much chaos, I couldn't help but laugh. After all, if there is one girl to get stuck with in a snowy catastrophe, it's Zoe. We were finally rerouted and drove back towards Lancaster, with newly salted roads and an appreciation for the steadfastness of her beater car (it's the best). The mountainshills rose before us, endless. I got home about 8 hours later, exhausted and cold. But I have to say, I recommend a February Catastrophe. It'll clear your sinuses and put some hair on your chest.