Early bird gets the snow

Sometimes, being up before the sun certainly pays off. While other New Yorkers blissfully snoozed below their fluffy quilts, I was walking to the gym during the first proper snowfall of the season. It was a spine-tingling experience. From the gym's window, I could see that it continued to snow outside. And as I walked home, I smiled at the white powder had begun to collect on cars and shop awnings. But by the time I left my apartment once more for work, the snowing had stopped. Snooze and lose, right? Witnessing the snow falling and my own excitement at the event, reminded me of last winter, my first in New York. Each time it snowed then, I was transformed into something of a five-year-old. I loved catching snowflakes on my tongue, but it became embarrassing, because I couldn't seem to keep my mouth closed when it was snowing. And I am almost 30. Not surprisingly then, one of my best days spent in New York was a lock-in snow day, last February. It was a Sunday, but the snow had begun to fall in earnest already on Saturday night. I was out on the town with some friends, and the white stuff had been coming down heavily since early evening. By the time we were ready to go home, the roads had all but iced over and the cabs were refusing to drive on it – I think I managed to catch the last willing driver, and we were slipping all over the road. Safely tucked in at home, the snow fell all through the night and when it was decently late enough to be getting out of bed, it had reached waist height. I was in awe. The news reports said it was the heaviest snowfall in New York since the 1940s. Imagine the neighbourhood you live in, but covered in snow so high you can’t see the cars. My friends and I began to play. Running through it, falling into it, trying to forget that beneath all this pristine snow were the putrid streets of New York’s East Village. Back inside, we tucked into a lavish brunch and played indoor games all day. I had spent the previous night with friends and now it was time to head back to the West Village. As I began to walk home through the (heavenly) silent streets at twilight, the fresh snow was shimmering in the fading light. It sparkled like powdery glitter, and had an ethereal blue-ish glow. I had never seen anything like it. By the time I stopped marvelling at it and grabbed for my camera or phone to call someone to come see, the light had faded and the effect was almost gone. A few minutes later I saw a young man on skis, pushing his way along the deserted night streets with his stocks. Do you think this what they mean when they call for environmentally-friendly, alternative modes of transport?