You know what’s Crazy? I’ll tell you what’s crazy™
Southern Snow.
The News Stations are trying to own it.
1 inch and falling fast.
Hold on to your ass everyone, it’s going to be a bumpy night.
One station calls it Winter Blast 2015.
A second station calls it Weather Alert.
A third station calls it Storm Alert.
They’ve been predicting it for days.
News stations enjoy disasters they can predict.
The on call list has been wrung dry. The call in rolodex is worn out. The bosses have warned us to bring our tee pees and moccasins and get ready to come in early and stay late.
Presidents Day will long be remembered for a coating of frozen precip and not a lot of sales.
The weather map is cold and dreary. It’s purples and dark blues.
“There’s a picture of a sun somewhere on the 7 day forecast,” the news anchor says.
While true, it won’t help anyone today.
We won’t see the total snow fall of Boston or New York, but it won’t matter.
An inch of ice anywhere will kick your ass.
The Southland is seeing a lot of ice.
They say Southerners can’t drive in icy conditions.
Last time I checked, nobody can drive in icy conditions.
The morning weather is live shots of cameras pointed out windows and driving behind salt trucks.
There are live shots from strategic intersections around town with pink booted news women scuffing the ground telling me how icy it is.
“look at the ice on this blade of grass,” one dingbat says.
I just heard tell me to stay inside if I don’t have to be outside.
That’s good advice for everyone.
imbeciles won’t listen. And at the end of the day, it doesn’t offer much help.
People are off from work and off from school. .
Idle minds are the hands of the devil.
I’ve done this a few times.
I will undoubtedly find cars that could have stayed home that are in ditches.
It’s early. A cup of coffee and a blanket are serving me well.
But in just a few hours, I will own this mess. I will be dancing in the ice, pushing a shovel.
I go into work 4 hours early. I can’t wait. I want to get into the mix.
I’m a shark and this is white chum. I need it. It has a scent. It smells like excitement.
I see the faces of the others reporting. There is no joy. There is a sense of fear.
I see it as a long day, but in some way an easy day.
You don’t have to call anyone. You don’t need to check many facts. You don’t need to authorize the story with the assignment desk.
You go to a street where a tree has fallen on a power line and you shoot it and you are done.
I get to the office and the boss sees me.
I tell him I’m going out with the young photog.
Someone says, “that’s our last TVU; that’s a portable backpack that allows us to go live from anywhere.
“Well it’s a good thing that last TVU is going to be with me.” I say with confidence.
The rest of the room stares at me. My boss gets it. He laughs out loud.
“That’s right. Go Go Go,” he shouts.
My boss knows that I am a snow warrior. I love it. I can do it. I feel it. Just send me in the direction you want and I will find something. Tell me to go live and I will inform and entertain and create good TV.
And so it goes.
I am sent to East Nashville where there is a report of a geyser shooting through the icy pavement.
When I get to the street, water is seeping through the street in several places.
It’s a geyser in need of Viagra.
The water crews tell me that an 8 inch pipe has burst.
I do a quick walk and talk.
It might get fixed? It might become a skating rink.
Only time will tell.
One story down.
I drive up the road and suddenly a man is waving at me to slow down.
I roll down the window.
“Wires down,” he says pointing to the nearby trees that have bent over backward from the weight.
“I heard the crash, then I saw the transformer explode,” the man says.
I do another walk and talk and suddenly, 2 stories down.
I got to a coffee shop and begin editing both pieces.
I will be live at 4pm and 6pm.
My 10 O’clock producer will just have to wait.
I do a live shot downtown and talk to the main anchor.
While there, I watch the policed write a man a ticket
He lost control of his car and drove onto the sidewalk knocking down the 6 foot guitar in front of Legend’s Corner.
Southerner.
“You’ve been driving around,” the main anchor says. “What have you seen out there.”
“It’s not that bad,” I say. “not compared to other years.”
And that’s true. I’ve been here 19 years. I’ve done stand ups in waist deep snow. I have been in traffic for 2 hours trying to drive 2 blocks.
The good news, there is no school, no work, and the roads are relatively free of vehicles.
They are icy, but due to Presidents day, it’s much less crowded. And that makes a difference.
By 10 pm, I have been going 12 hours straight.
Somewhere in between, I grab some pizza.
I don’t even think I chew it, I’m so hungry, so worn out.
I am wearing 5 layers of clothes and still it is not enough.
It’s hard to move when you have the dexterity of the Michellin Man.
My producer is wearing me out. She wants a live shot in a live truck. That’s much much harder to do than push a button on a back pack and begin talking.
I find a spot over the interstate. Semi trucks are backed up. Red lights swirl in the blowing snowy haze.
This is a good place to showcase the extent of the problems.
My phone rings. The live truck is skidding up the hill.]
“I can’t make it,” the photographer says.
“OK. Stay safe. Get back to the 2ndary location.”
“We gotta change live shot locations,” I yell into my cell phone at 9:10pm.
The producer isn’t happy. She wants a live shot of the back up.
But she won’t use the TVU, so we have to go to a safer location, and there’s not much time to find it.
It’s 18 degrees and it’s hard to move your hands.
The roads are icy and the vehicle slides every time you change your speed or position on the road.
We get to a location near the football stadium. There is a good backdrop of the city and a section of interstate.
We do our live shot and it is wildly successful.
I have a taped segment where I slide on ice and bang frozen trees with a shovel.
My anchor laughs as he says good bye, mentioning how I got my aggression out with a shovel.
In Ice Storm 2015, a smile is like a ray of 80 degree sunshine.
We pack up and I get on the interstate for the 26 mile drive home.
There is nobody on the road.
It reminds me of Pink Floyd’s Dark Side of the Moon.
Though the roads are icy, I have 100 feet of it.
I am doing 60 mph and I am exhausted.
I get back to my dark, lonely house.
I have nobody to say hello to. I have no one to say good job. I have no one to welcome me home.
It’s been a long day.
I know I have worked hard.
I think about a beer. I’m too tired.
I also know that as much as I love this, my time here is drawing near.
I post a sunset from my recent California trip.
The time there, the events there, seem like a long time ago now.
But the sunset will suffice.
I now know what I need and Snow-magheddon 2015 ain’t it.
Life’s Crazy™