Diary of a Low Budget Superhero

Four storms into the 2010/2011 season and I'm still deciding who has a more difficult time during winter in Boston -- the pedestrians or the drivers?

Follow up:

On one hand, even in a heavy snowfall, the roadways get cleared right quick. It's actually amazing how quickly and completely the plows are able to accomplish what must be a monumental task! If you think about it, instead of complaining about how long it takes, we should all be in awe that most of the roads get plowed, salted and sanded in such short order. So if you're a car driver and it's snowing like a mofo out there, just relax and give it a few hours, you can usually pretty much be on your way with relative ease, as long as you don't drive like a total asswipe. I mean, go slow, you know? It can still be slippery in spots, especially at the intersections where the plows turn and make big arc'ing tracks. And watch out for the damn pedestrians because some of you dunderheads have come awful close to, you know, killing me. Then I'd have to haunt you relentlessly, and I have a feeling that if I died in such a stupid way, I would be A VERY CRANKY GHOST. And before you say it's my fault, the only reason I am in the road is that the sidewalks, by contrast, are knee-deep. So slow down and share the road.

So yes, the drivers benefit from clear roads while pedestrians battle treacherous sidewalks. But then again, the actual driving portion of car ownership during winter isn't the hardest part. The clear roads are only a small consolation prize for the rest of it: the shoveling out, the winter maintenance costs, the crawl of traffic due to accidents and bad drivers, and the parking. Oy, the parking, THE PARKING!

I gave up my car back in 2003, so I'm in the pedestrian category now. But it took about three years after giving up the car before I lost that instinctual sense of dread on snowy mornings. Yes, dread, and panic. From being a car owner living in Somerville, MA. It would take a whole 'nother entry for me to tell you why. Let's just say, I do not miss the sight of this greeting me in the morning:

While that's a spirit-crushing sight, I have to tell you something even worse: that's not so bad. See, that photo was taken after the first snow in December. At that point, digging the car out meant just the one layer and, though it was a lot of snow, it was not yet frozen. You could still take your arm and sweep across the windshield, brushing most of it away and clearing the door lock and handle enough to get inside, start the engine and have that warming up, so the car itself is helping de-snow from the inside. You can even kind of see a chunk of it starting to fall off a little on the window. Plus there's a big plow bank only behind you, you could tackle the knee-high stuff in front and then drive forward, giving yourself room to shovel out the rest of it.

But this next photo I took on January 19th, after two blizzards and a rain storm. I don't think this guy ever dug out from the first snow. Notice the plow banks on both sides. This car doesn't only need to be cleared off, because even when that's done, it ain't going nowhere until one of those plow banks is dealt with. And you can't really tell from the photo, but at this point, this snow is brutal. This snow is solid. This snow cannot be "brushed" off. This snow has melted a little on some warmer days, then hardened to ice overnite, then melted a little, then re-snowed upon...this car is encased and will only be free'd by chipping it out of its white death pod. This poor bastard. I've been there. And it made me want to forget I even had a car until spring.

And that is the hardest part of winter in this city. They might shoot each other on the freeways in Los Angeles, but try to park in a spot you didn't shovel out in Boston and you'll really see some violence. Which brings us to the primary topic of the day -- the many and varied methods used to save that parking space.

If you live around here, you know all about this practice of saving the space that took hours to dig out. Officially, Boston allows its residents to save a parking space for 48 hours after the weather emergency is over. Unofficially, this guy across the street from my apartment has been using the same red folding chair to mark his spot for the last month. And he's not the only one, and it's not just in Boston. In any snowy city, wherever there's a dearth of driveways and garages, there's all manner of space-savers marking the street space that you just know is the domain of one tired person with blisters and a backache. That's the guy you gotta think about before you park. That's the guy who is going to smash your windshield if you dare move his space saver and park in his spot.

The three most popular space savers rank as follows. Number one, no contest, is your ordinary household chair. Number two would have to be an outdoor trash barrel or recycling bin of some kind. A distant third is an orange traffic cone. That one always gets me: where do you even get an orange traffic cone? I've come across one or two in my life, but they were, um, stolen by someone who looks like me and put them in my room.

So, the "chair people." The variety of chairs out there is a sight to behold. You've got your stackable plastic church basement chairs, collapsible nylon beach chairs, Adirondack deck chairs, metal folding chairs. You've got director's chairs, ladderback dining chairs and even a rocker or two. For some reason, the most popular style in my lower Allston neighborhood is the old fashioned country chair, the low-back wooden spindle variety. Sometimes backless, sometimes not. They are everywhere. Seriously, it's weird -- this style of chair outnumbers any other single space saving seating item by far, to the point where I wonder if somebody is selling them off as parking space savers:

Sometimes the chair people mix it up a little. Take this guy, who snarkily set up TWO spindle chairs in what appears to be a conversation-friendly configuration. Add a coffee table between them, a bowl of chips and a floor lamp and you would really have something here:

Sometimes when you're out at your local pub, instead of getting a table, you favor sitting at the bar? On a stool? So follows the space saver alternate, the stool. Notice the first one that's been there so long that it gained another five inches of snow:

Often you'll come across a space saver chair that has seen a few winters, like a sad old lawn chair that lost its woven plastic body over the years, reduced to a rusty metal frame, or a caned chair without a seat. This guy is going to see if he can get one more winter out of his spindle chair that has been backed-over, or maybe sent flying by a plow blade. I couldn't even get all the bits into the photo, this chair was strewn about like C3PO after the attack of the sand people. The plow people will be back, and in greater numbers.

I don't know whether or not the chair people judge each other based on the style and condition of their space saving item, but surely the "bin 'n barrel people" must? My opinion is, look, the city gives every household an allotment of trash bins and recycle bins. These are on wheels, and designed so the trash collection truck's mechanism can hook the barrel, hoist, and empty it without the trash collector having to touch any actual trash. The "barrel 'n bin people" who save spaces with their own barrels 'n bins, I mean their own, not the ones provided by the city, are sending a message. They're saying "I don't use this bin for my trash. I got this bin at Home Depot and I use it to save my parking space from the likes of you. Go away." I'm talking about the big round containers you might use in a workshop or for parties, like this:

The point is, some effort went into it. If you're a guy who simply pulls his blue wheeled city-alloted bin out into the street and it isn't recycle day, then aren't you just a giant dweeb?

Yellow bin guy is unique, this is the only one of these I've seen.

A traffic cone is so much more official-looking than anything else. So I wonder...now hear me out...the city ordinance is very clear that says you can only save the space for 48 hours. The terms go on to say that the trash collection, which happens each Friday in this neighborhood, will consider your space saver trash. You're supposed to come home on Friday to find your space saving item long ago swallowed up by the compactor. That's on paper. In reality, they don't do it -- I've watched out the window on Friday mornings to see. The guys hoist and dump the trash bins and leave the chairs and such quite alone, and the police never do anything either. The trash guys and the police alike have probably come to work that day after having dug out a space of their own, and are totally sympathetic to the sad little chairs, bins and crates that people set up as a monument to the gods of shoveling. But a traffic cone? A traffic cone marking a parking space looks, to me, like somebody trying to act like this space is officially off limits. They're normally used for safety purposes, whether it's to safely divert traffic on a highway or to warn people that the floor is wet. Used here, it's only saying "It would be a lot safer for you if you didn't park here." I would think this would annoy people a lot more than the other items. I could be wrong, but I bet his neighbors hate traffic cone guy.

A milk crate says, "Hey, I'm not organized enough to keep an old chair on hand just to save my parking space, but I borrowed my neighbor's shovel and it took me all day to dig out my Nissan between bong hits, and I'm bummed 'cuz I broke my Jesus fish off my bumper, and I do happen to have this old milk crate lying around...so...yeah...what?" What do you want to bet milk crate guy drives home with his Funyons and donuts and parks somewhere else because he forgot he shoveled out a space.

This dresser drawer is just proof that people will use anything. I would really like to know if any thought went into this. "Martha, I'm going to throw away the dresser." "OK, but save one drawer for the winter." This falls strictly into the "whatever works" category.

The plant in this next photo perished some time before this season's snowfall began. Judging by its advanced state of deadness, it may have even succumbed LAST winter. It is hard to tell from the photo, but it's not so much a "dead plant" anymore as a stick. A stick stuck in a pot of dirt. Another one for the "whatever works" category.

Now, the danger of the dead plant is that it looks an awful lot like trash. I already said that the rules say the trash guys will discard anything marking a space. But even if they're being kind and letting your space saver remain, how can they be sure it IS a space saver if it truly looks like some piece of crap you'd find at the dump? Like, say, an old tire?

Finally, a big huge "boo!" to this guy. Come on, this lazybones isn't even trying. This is a cardboard box, I think from Amazon. What present was in this box, a 24-pack of I Could Give A Shit? There are so many things wrong with this, I can't even begin, and it does not get an entry into the "whatever works" category because it just won't. Work, that is. Who wouldn't drive right over that fucker?

OK, that is the last parking photo. For now, unless I spot something totally crazy. But the question remains, who has it harder during a Boston winter, the drivers or the pedestrians?

While the roads are cleared by the plows, the sidewalks...yeah, not so much. It takes a lot longer for individuals like you and me to get out and do the sidewalks. If you're out walking before anyone's had a chance to shovel, walking is really hard. As my pal Nathan said yesterday of the pedestrian's challenge, "Every few blocks requires a different strategy." Yep, I get that. See, most conscientious homeowners, businesses and landlords DO try to keep their bit of sidewalk clear, but there's no consistency in the degree of maintenance. Thank God when you get to a bit of sidewalk that's been cleared, salted and sanded right down to the concrete because those are a great break for your calves and butt, which get a workout on the NON-cleared stretches. Walking through fresh snow that's deeper than your ankles is like walking on beach sand, only slippery, and you lack that grippy action of bare toes. Balancing on this stuff makes for quite a silly-looking wobble of a walk as you fight with your center of gravity to remain upright. The wetter the snow, the heavier, the more work it takes to push through it, so this walk requires more of a bent forward motion like a speed skater slogging through thick molasses. My least favorite sidewalk is one I call the "why bother?" I mean, hello, sidewalk guy? Was this even done with a shovel, or did you come out here with, like, a ladle or a spatula? It's not even remotely close to the concrete, and nowhere near the width of the sidewalk. Dammit sidewalk guy, it would have been less treacherous if you had just left it alone. All you done here is dig a deadly furrow approximately one pathetic boot-width and a half wide. This walk requires the balance, flexibility and strength of a gymnast performing on the beam. This is when I have to walk in the street.

To all of these varying degrees of walking challenge, add cars speeding past, their wheels splashing up waves of icy puddle water, with the un-cleared cars driven by total assholes sending giant slabs of snow from their hoods and trunks like icy torpedoes.

Yeah. It's hard walking.

But overall, I think it's a tie between the drivers and the pedestrians. The roads are cleared first before sidewalks, but walkers don't have to dig out. It's warmer and drier inside a car, but walkers don't have to use up stress points simply dealing with where to park the car. Walkers don't have to sit in traffic, either. Though at least when the drivers do get stuck in traffic, they can listen to music in privacy and warmth. Walkers have better outwear, and get a good deal of exercise just slogging thru muck. Drivers get to wear nice shoes to work.

It's all relative.

One thing we can all agree on. Baby, it's cold outside.