Let it snow...some other holiday
While I was home in Nebraska over Christmas, the entire state experienced a huge blizzard. This was equivalent to what the East Coast is experiencing right now, except it isn’t a big news story for the Midwest to get snowed in. We had drifts taller than 6’-2” (aka my brother-in-law). The snow started December 23rd and didn’t end until after Christmas. Only a few things were willing to open Christmas Eve (only one service for the church…and they normally have four) and EVERYTHING (even churches…and Walmart) was cancelled/closed on Christmas.
We were housebound for three straight days and I developed a heavy case of cabin fever. My parents don’t believe in things like cable television, internet, or central heat, so we spent the majority of our time huddled on the couch watching every DVD they own. My Mom has the habit of buying movies that she hasn’t even seen if they are really cheap ($3 or less) at Walmart.
Although Christmas was cancelled, I still gave/received gifts. Friends laugh when they find out what I actually want for Christmas. Hey I am practical and live in a small apartment that cannot be filled with a lot of random junk. This year I got: toothbrushes, slippers, leg razors, athletic socks, a sweater, and a box of tampons. Last year it was bed pillows, laundry detergent, and a fuzzy robe. I know pathetic, but I adore these gifts.
A couple of days after Christmas, my parents drove me to the airport. Normally the Omaha airport is NEVER busy because it has six gates and only caters to small planes. I’ve never had a line before…for anything. In fact, I’ve timed it from the point of entering the airport to passing through security, and it has taken only ten minutes. That is even with face-to-face check in because they don’t believe in electronic kiosks there (too many people mistake them for ATMs). Imagine my surprise when the ticket lobby is PACKED. Seriously, line out the door packed. Looking at the crowd, I noticed two things…1) everyone was geriatric old & 2) everyone was wearing head to toe husker apparel.
My flight was headed to Chicago. Apparently it was plane “B” for all bowl travelers who didn’t book the non-stop San Diego flight. If they would have played the fight song over the intercom, we would have crashed from all the stomping and clapping. I sat between two corn farmers. NOT KIDDING…real life corn farmers. They declared that only Husker football would make them leave during the planting season (or harvest, or plowing, whatever, I don’t know jack shit about corn farming).
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