I trudged on through the blinding snow. It was piling up by the hour, and conditions were getting worse all the time. I pushed onward because I had to make it to my goal, and make it to safety. I was out in the middle of a blizzard carving my own path in the ever-deepening snow. Somewhere far behind me my car lay buried. Everywhere, people found themselves stuck. I pushed on ahead despite the cold wind blowing snow down my neck. One thing and one thing alone kept me going: I needed bourbon.
Mother nature seldom shows mercy. She can come for anyone at any time. That is why you must always be prepared to survive when something bad comes your way. I consider myself something of a survivalist, though you wouldn’t know it by calm demeanor and desk job lifestyle. But when it comes to survival, I’m the kind of guy you want to have around.
This weekend, much of the East Coast was hit by a snow storm. This includes the greater Washington, D.C. area, where I live, only here they called it a blizzard. It ended up being one of the worst storm’s in the area’s history–well of the last 100 years, and even then, it came in as like third or fourth worst. Still, it was intense, man.
On Friday night, the snow began to fall and despite being forecast as a big storm heading our way for more than 48 hours before that, the Maryland State Highway Administration’s plows were caught completely off guard. I drove some 30 miles on the highway going roughly 15 mph and guessing where the lanes were, as countless other cars did. Many of them didn’t make it home that night. But I did.
On that long ride, I went through a checklist in my head of supplies I had. I had enough food for days, I had blankets and flashlights, I had–dear god, I was running low on Jim Beam!
By early Saturday afternoon, the snow had nearly reached a foot, and it was hard to tell out my window of my apartment what was the road and what was the sidewalk. I was in luck, however, the nearest liquor store was still open for another hour. I suited myself up, brought along my girlfriend, and began blazing a trail to the liquor store. I got snow in my boots, it was really cold. I mean, it wasn’t like I was worried about frost bite or something, but it was uncomfortable. Yet I kept going.
Despite having no time to build a makeshift shelter and gather a few sticks for a fire like some pussies named Bear Grylls would do, I pushed on. Though I had no knife to defend myself from the wild animals (feral cats, rabbits) that are known to call the D.C. area home, I made my way through the snow drifts and got that sweet handle of bourbon. Because when a man is thirsty, a man is thirsty.
It was then I realized that I had to walk all the way home again.