Icy pavement, callous men

I took this picture of my car (the Beetle on the right) from inside my apartment on Monday morning. Sorry about the screen, but it was too freezing to venture outside. Especially when I don't have any boots.

This week North Alabama experienced what my friend Jason is calling Snowpocalypse 2011. I woke up Monday morning to around nine inches of snow outside my apartment.

Alabama is not used to snow. Any snow. Especially not nine inches. Our town has been virtually incapacitated. My place of work was officially closed on Monday and Tuesday, and even though our offices are "open" today, almost everyone has taken a vacation day rather than deal with the still icy roads. Kids haven't been to school since Friday.

The allure of the snow is starting to wear off for most people. We're ready for the thaw.

My parents are from Michigan, and they are still, after 22 years of living in the South, amazed by the milk and bread hysteria that accompanies each snowflake. When I began driving, my dad instructed me on how to drive in ice and snow. No braking! Steer into the slide if it starts! Be calm.

So by yesterday, I was completely sick of the food I had in my apartment. I wanted something hot and not made by me. So I ventured out. To Chili's.

It was a little slushy, but not too bad. However, when I got out of my car at Chili's, I realized that in order to actually get in the door, I had to pick my way across an enormous icy patch. I was wearing sneakers, but my traction wasn't that great. And I am the Queen of the Fall. I spent most of my high school career as a Giant Bruise.

I felt like an 85-year-old gymnast trying to balance beam across that ice. Halfway across, a man came out the door and headed my way. I thought "Wow! This guy is going to take my hand and help me out. Thank you, Mr. Stranger."

But he just looked at me (sort of disdainfully, I might add), passed right by my flailing body in his snow boots, and hopped in his huge four-wheel-drive truck.

What? Ok. I am all for being an independent woman, but what happened to chivalry, guys? I still think that guys should open doors for women, pull out their chair, call my mom Mrs. Alana if they don't know her really well, and hold my hand to help me across patches of ice so I don't get a contusion on my tookis. This man obviously doesn't agree with me.

I made it into Chili's and told them they should sprinkle some salt on the ice outside so they won't have to deal with lawsuits from people with less balance. Next time, I'm bringing skis.