Congratulations on Getting Snowed In!

Tomorrow you’re going to be flying home for the holidays like so many other denizens of America. Unfortunately, despite the fact that it happens for like a quarter of the year every year, Americans haven’t really learned to cope with snow yet, so when a few flakes touch the ground at Chicago O’Hare the entire place is just going to shut down.

We’re not saying they’ll cancel the flights and give you discount rates on already flooded hotels. No, they’re just going to seal the doors and set sniper teams outside the airport to pick off anyone with the savvy to escape. Within hours you and the dipshitty fucks that you’re being forced to spend the holidays with will have devolved from being somewhat polite to being complete shitbirds.

Society in the airport will be made up of several tribes. The former businessmen will remove their ties and tie them about their heads, wooping and yelling about finance, hoping to dissuade larger predators. The members of the military traveling home on vacation will barricade themselves inside the Admiral’s Club, shooting anyone without a platinum card who approaches. The college students will devolve into one big naked pile. The fat people will just sit on anyone they disagree with. And the disaffected twenty somethings, like you, will be left to huddle around burning piles of shit from Brookstone’s and try to plan your escape.

Sheryl, the enthusiastic young woman who works in marketing but wants to write short fiction, will start the planning session. “Maybe we should try and steal a plane and fly it to some other airport where they know how to deal with snow. Does anyone know how to fly a plane?”

Everyone in your fire circle will shrug, except one young man, Mark, who will raise his hand about halfway up. The circle will turn its wordless gaze upon him. “I went to flight school for a few years. But I flunked out.”

The circle will let out a collective sigh and turn away from him. But Cheryl, the young mom who was working towards a career in journalism before she was knocked up, won’t be dissuaded.

“Snowmobiles!” she’ll shout, waking up some of the other circles. She’ll drop her voice when she notices. “Maybe we can steal some snowmobiles. Do they have any?”

Julio, the office worker who barely escaped from the streets of LA to live in Portland, will shake his head. “The nearest snowmobile emporium is at least twenty miles away. And if we got past the snipers the only way they wouldn’t be cleared out is if they were armed too.”

Another sigh will ripple through the crowd, but then you’ll raise your hand.

“What if we melded our group with the college students?” you’ll ask. The circle will look up at you, intrigued, and you’ll continue.

“Well, we’re more sexually experienced, we have more practical skills and, even though most of them look better naked than us and haven’t had their souls broken down into a substance just as destructive as crushed glass, they might still want to sleep with us. So why don’t we offer them some fire?”

The group will consider your thoughts for a few seconds. Some of the women around the fire will fondly think back to when they “went lez” back in college, and most of the guys will think about how impressively low the standards most college girls set for their sexual partners are.

The circle will let out a collective hurrah, leaving two of the least attractive members of the circle to guard the fire while the rest of you go to convince the college students to help you share body warmth and work together to avoid being raped by the Fatties and the Business People.

Congratulations on Getting Snowed In!