Meteorologists lie. I distinctly remember something about a possible flurry, but I watched '24' without a frozen worry in the world. My weatherlady told me to forget about it and I did. But alas, it snowed. Again. Greg even aborted his commute and is taking calls from home. Scratch all the plans, we are homebound. Our district took its sweet time before announcing that school was indeed cancelled this morning. I was waiting for my Dad, aka Panic Papa, to call me and to suggest strongly that I keep his sweet grandbabies home, even if the fools, I mean, powers that be go forth with the plans to educate little minds. He has a strict no-driving in nasty weather policy. And if he has any say (my whole childhood into college) by golly, I stayed home.
Except for this one time. Somehow I got past the perimeter and made it to church, about 20 minutes from home. My parents were having dinner with some friends; Laura and I were supposed to come to her house right after services, as the forecast was calling for snow in the higher elevations, in the boondocks we called home. This sounded reasonable. And it was. But I was a 16 year-old zealot in love with God and his servant, my Boyfriend the ministry major. (Although it is hard to say if my affections truly were in that order.) So, when dreamy religious Boyfriend offered to take me home so I could sing praises to God, Amen, at the devotional after church, against said no-lingering policy, I didn't hesitate. Boyfriend was Smart and Godly and Righteous, so The Plan seemed to make perfect sense to me. As we approached Sandy, the gateway to Mt. Hood, I started to question the wisdom of said Plan. The Boyfriend seemed frightened by the snow, and more importantly, scared to answer to his parents if he got stuck late at night, on a hill, in deep snow. It didn't take long for the revisions to begin. The NEW AND IMPROVED Plan was to leave me in front of a grocery store, late at night, in the cold, by a payphone. So I could beg my parents to fetch me. Afraid to rock the boat, and without many options, I kissed the Boyfriend goodbye and made the call.
My Mom is Patient and Sweet and Lovely, but I caught her in a fury. By now, she had spent a few hours stewing about The Plan (poor Laura had to break the news; I imagine I am alive today because she took pity on me, the friend-dumping idiot, and begged for my short life to be spared). I know now that she was equally angry at me for disobeying her and at the Boyfriend-on-the-pedestal that left me in the dark. But at the time, I wasn't sure if I was more scared of being left alone at night in a deserted parking lot or of my Mom risking life and limb to get me. At least all the creepy guys were heading to shelter, right? The phone call was brief and terse and miserable. She made me wait. She told me she would come get me when she was ready. Clearly I was getting a lesson. (Don't try it at home kiddies. Learn from me. Unpleasant and very cold.)
No one nabbed me and I made it home safely, thanks to my silent, yet loving parents. I was busted for a time (hard to swallow considering I was such a goody-goody). And I continued to date the guy who dumped me somewhere to save his own hide off and on for a few more years. True story. Young love is blind, afterall.