Everyone has a story about that "Big Snow." Some have several. As someone who lives in Georgia, where we don't get snow often enough to know what to do, here are some of mine:
December 2017
As far out as last weekend, we were seeing the forecast calling for a 20% chance of snow showers overnight Thursday or Friday. As late as Thursday morning, the forecast was calling for a higher chance of snow, but with "little to no accumulation expected." (By 9 AM Friday, this became a Winter Storm Warning.)
Friday morning, I woke up to a dusting. Snow was falling lightly, but was not sticking to the road. Having experienced "Snowmageddon" only a few years before, I left for work cautiously, with the goal of keeping an eye on road conditions, and leaving if it started to stick.
At work, I found that one coworker was already snowed in and without power. My other 2 coworkers and I, untypically for our busy office, kept Facebook and various weather sites open, continually looking for updates. My supervisor lives in Elijay, and my other coworker lives in Rome, north and west, respectively, of our office and therefore both likely to start getting hit by what was coming in before either Waleska or Woodstock.
I should mention that I work in a relatively isolated area; we have a 4-way stop with a flashing light at THE intersection in town. These 2 state roads are about the only way in and out, and one of them is notorius for being blocked by falling trees. That's road I usually take in and out of town.
The first hour went OK. But then the snow really started coming down, and we could see it sticking to the pavement. My supervisor's husband and neighbours were starting to report hazzardous conditions. She prepared to leave, with the knowledge that the school was preparing an announcement about closing early. My coworker and I stayed on, mainly to prepare to close up shop. Our supervisor called from the road about 15 minutes before the closure was to go into effect to tell us that the roads were already getting bad, and to tell us not to wait.
My Rome coworker and I locked up and went out separate ways - him down 108 with it's winding curves and steep drop-offs, me toward 140, beloved of the falling trees. Not much more than a mile out of town, traffic was stopped. I had heard rumours there was a wreck and about the time I attempted to call Jason to get him to look for road condition updates (there wasn't much I could do in the car), cars in front of me started turning around, signalling for those of us who were sitting stopped to do the same.
I turned around and went back to the 4-way, hoping that 108 was not yet slick. My hopes were rewarded - driving well under the speed limit and gently braking well in advance of curves and hills, I did well. As I aproached the junction with 20, near Lake Allatoona, I wondered if I was going too slow and whether traffic was backing up behind me. I glanced behind me to find that I was leading a convoy of maybe 8 larger vehicles - mostly white SUVs. But all were moving as slowly as me, and no one was honking or tailgating.
As I made the (slow) left turn out onto 20, I felt somewhat like Rudulph as the entire line of larger vehicles curved out like slow-moving skaters and continued to follow my little red car toward a clearer route.
I arrived home almost 2 hours after I left, but before the worst of the snow and considered that a success.
"Snowmageddon" 2014
This is the storm that everyone has a horror story about. This is the storm that has made people cautious, and I think the reason why so many schools and businesses very quickly decided on Friday that it was time to throw in the towel and not let history repeat.
This was a January or February storm (they're the worst!) that came in mid day. It was one of those ones where they had predicted it would arrive later and bring little precipitation. It was the day that I would have normally worked late at the library.
I arrived at work just as the flakes were starting to fall. As the wet ground very quuckly began to freeze over, many of my coworkers realized that this was going to be worse than we thought. My then-boyfriend called to say that he was leaving work at noon and he recommended I follow suit. We had by then had the announcement that we were closing in the early afternoon, but a lot of us ended up leaving before then. I grabbed a granola bar to eat in the car, as I figured it would take me an hour or two to get home and I would probably be hungry.
As anyone who was in the Atlanta area in 2014 knows, this was not to be the "double the normal commute time" home we were thinking.
I was actually one of the lucky ones. 3 hours after I left the library, I arrived at an elementary school - 2 miles from the library. I was in a panic - I knew at this point that I couldn't make it home to Baldur. Jason had yet to make it more than a few miles himself. We were both - at the rate we had been going - probably 10 hours from home, assuming the cars didn't slide off the road or get hit by another car. Jason had proclaimed that if he got stuck he was walking to Woodstock. That old joke about walking 10 miles through the snow uphill? That's what he was planning to do.
But having stopped at the school (who very kindly let me use their bathroom and vending machine, the granola bar long-since gone), I was able to take a moment to get my brain off that icy road and actually think. My parents lived a mile away. If Jason and I could make it there, we'd at least have somewhere warm and familiar to sleep. I had thought of and dismissed this idea back when I thought it was just going to be a long, tedious, but doable drive.
But what about Baldur? Miraculously, Jason was able to get in touch with our neighbor, who agreed without hesitation to come take care of our baby - her kids were being held at school after 1 of the Cherokee buses got stuck at the bottom of a hill. Baldur finally in good hands, Jason finally gave up on the idea of trying to walk home and agreed to try to make it to my parents house. My dad talked me through a back-road way to go from the school where I had stopped. I made it to my parents' house in about the same amount of time I could have walked it. Jason finally made it 5 hours after he had left his office - what would have been a 30 minute drive under normal conditions.
And we were the lucky ones. I had coworkers who slept in Waffle Houses and churches. My now-brother in law, after being stuck on the highway for more than 10 hours, also decided he would walk, but was offered to share a seat in a semi-trailer.
The Superbowl Sunday Ice Storm
It was February, 2000. Atlanta was hosting the Superbowl. I was a senior in high school. All of us had been watching the weather with anticipation; we were forecast to get ice on Friday. There was so much certainty and concern that by Thursday afternoon, schools announced that they would be closed on Friday.
Friday morning dawned clear and dry. A bunch of my classmates celebrated the free snow day by going to Waffle House in their PJ's. A picture of the event made it into the yearbook.
But Sunday was another matter. Sunday we woke to an iced-over city, complete with downed trees and powerlines. I was supposed to be working that day; I worked in the book section of Media Play. I never cared for football, so having to work on Superbowl Sunday was fine with me - at least before the storm hit. My manager (who was probably younger then than I am now) called to make sure that I was coming in. I had never driven on ice, and didn't even have my licence. My mom took the phone away from me and in her most powerful "do as I say, young lady" mom voice told my manager in no uncertain terms that they should not expect a 17 year old to come in during an ice storm that had the majority of the city locked down.
The Blizzard of '93
I'm not a meteorologist, but I would like to point out that just a couple days before the mid-March blizard, it was warm - mid 50's, or maybe even 60's. Everyone said that the snow wouldn't stick. Everyone said it would be a light accumulation event. But, very similarly to what happened this year, a strong cold front combined with a lot of moisture gave us inches (and in some places, a foot) of snow that most definitely stuck and hung around for days afterward.
I would also like to point out that when people term this storm a blizard, they aren't being flippant. This was an event that met the definition of a blizard - snow with winds above 30 mph, causing white-out conditions.
I was eleven at this time, and my sister was almost 7 - we were still very much at the "snow is fun, we want snow!" age. We were awake early that Saturday morning, intently watching the weather on TV as big, fat, wet snowflakes fell. And there was thunder as the snow fell. It was very odd. The early consensus of the news anchors was, "don't get excited kids, we won't get more than an inch or two." The morning went on. The snow continued to fall. Every hour or so, the anchors delivered an updated estimate - 2 inches, then 3-4, then 4-6, then at least 8.
The final tally for our yard, in Marietta, was 12 inches, but drifts nearly 3 feet high up against some walls of the house.
My dad, for some reason, decided that it was a good idea for us to go to Kroger after there was already about 4 inches of snow on the ground. Why you would take your 11 year old with you to the store in a blizzard, I still don't understand. I have also never in my life seen so many people at the grocery store. The lines were so long as to make the aisles almost impassable.
At some point, our power went out. Our dad cooked pasta on the outdoor gas grill. It was...memorable.
The snow stopped overnight and the next day dawned clear and cold. It was great weather for the kids who wanted to make snowmen and go sledding. The roads were impassable, though. What had been slush and deeply imprinted tire treads the day before were now the jagged peaks of a mid-street mountain range.
Even though the snow fell on a Saturday, we were out of school for 2 days. I understand that some areas of the Carolinas, hit by the same storm, were out of school for a week.
"Snowjam" '82
This is not my story, but my mom's. I was born in February of '82, between 2 ice storms. The first of these, Snowjam, is still referrenced by people when comparing it to Snowmageddon. My mom was nearly to term with me when the storm hit, and she recalls watching the news, and desparing at the footage of other pregnant women trekking up the icy hill to Peidmont hospital, hoping that I would wait the storm out. I apparently did, as I arrived a couple weeks later on a rainy - but thankfully not icy - night.
Please share your snow stories!