After the boiler in my flat decided to kick it forever and we all descended into despair and near-madness, I fled NYC to recover at my family's place. But not before I ventured outside into the two foot snow drifts of Flatbush.
It was insanity. Flatbush Avenue had been closed down except for emergency vehicles, so people walked up and down what is normally a very busy highway. The silence was deafening. I saw a large rat scurry up a snowbank to find shelter inside the hubcap of an abandoned commuter van.
Surviving my first blizzard in NYC was a memorable experience, and although it was sheer hell, it was a beautiful one.