Getting Plowed

So, today, I head to work around 6:30 a.m., and just like the weatherpeoples promised, it has snowed, like, 10 inches. Which is totally cool, except for the scraping and sweeping of snow off my car. Anyway, I burrow my way over the ice and through the snow, and about 10 minutes after I arrive, I hear the cops on the scanner talking about a semi jackknifed on the interstate, just south of the exit ramp.

Jackknifed!

So I kick into Full Photographer Mode, grab my camera, my Fighting Illini cap and my coat and cruise out the door. And I find not only a jackknifed semi, but another one blocking the exit ramp! All kinds of excitement in our little town.

(So sad. So, so sad.)

Anyhoo, as I am taking pictures of the semi to the south, from my vantage point from above (from the sidewalk of the overpass above), I hear a vehicle approaching:

Snowplow!

On my side of the street!

And there is NOWHERE for me to go!

And for a split-second, I am worried, but then it all seems like a scene out of a movie, in which someone is walking down the street and a car drives by, through a mud puddle, splashing muddy water all over the person. Only this is SNOW ... and it is very, VERY cold!

Yes, I got plowed. Or, more correctly, I got snow plowed onto me.

And yes, it was very cold, and it could have been very, very bad had there been any rocks or debris in the snow, or had the snow been dirty, but thankfully this was virgin snow, only the second or third plowing of the morning, so it was a bit like a frosty shower.

(Only later did I contemplate how tragic this event could have been. I mean, I could have died, if you think about it! And what a way to go THAT would have been.)

: )