rock over London. rock on, Chicago.

I am at a hotel on the edge of Charlottesville.
no. I am not on the lam. me and Central Virginia are in the middle of one of the snowstorm of the infant decade. one of those storms that are of interest to no one unless they’re affected by it, I understand, but I am. they are calling for up to 30 inches. it hasn’t stopped coming down for about 18 hours, now, and it’s supposed to go for 18 more. and I worked today, and it’s probably not safe to drive home tonight. so I’m at the Doubletree on the company dime. it’s the kind of hotel that gives you a warm, chocolate chip cookie when you check in.
I finished mine before I got to my room. 

so now it’s 10 pm, and it’s snowing like it has something to prove, and the assistant sports editor is on his phone, sitting on the bed next to me. we have killed a six-pack of Leinenkugel. I am sure that is not how you spell the name of this beer, but you know which one I’m talking about.
it’s been a long day. it was snowing, ever so slightly, when I drove up to work at 10 am. and it was starting to stick at 11:30 when I went to 7-Eleven for coffee. and then, by 4:30 pm when everyone else had gone home except myself and one other, the power started cutting in and out, and the snow blotted out the sky lights. we had to restart the computers a half-dozen times, and then everything finally failed at 6:15. pitch black.
as far as I can tell they aren’t plowing the roads around here very well — or at all between here and my home in the city, we got a ride over here from some guy from circulation who has access to a huge, all-wheel-drive pick up. he was a little offsetting at first — like a rural extra in an independent horror movie – and he let the truck coast down a snowy hill hands-free while he looked for his ringing cell phone. but he got us here, and offered to pick us up tomorrow. he says he’s not going home tonight, that he’ll be at the paper all evening. I hope he isn’t. like I said, the power is out. but that didn’t seem to phase him.
after checking in my boss and I had dinner at the buffet downstairs, where for 45 minutes we talked about his in-laws and that parasite that makes crazy shut-ins want to own a million cats, and I paid $5 for a Yuengling. see, this is a nice hotel. it’s got wireless internet, flat-screen TVs in the rooms, a restaurant and a small, kidney-shaped pool. I’m gonna try to get in that before I raid the continental breakfast in the morning. I brought my swimming trunks. because, oh yes, I planned ahead.

but still, it doesn’t have everything. I wish I had Doubletree letterhead to write this on, and I searched the room but couldn’t find any. I will have to store this on the WordPress until further notice. maybe I’ll publish it, or maybe not. maybe it is something for only you to read. I wish you were here right now; I’ve got the heat on blast, and there’s more pillows on this bed than I need. you would like it here.
we could make a weekend out of it, if only you could get through the snow, which is coming down in buckets through the window to my left.
but because I can’t, I will have to settle with simply seeing you soon. but that’s okay, I can handle that. I may walk through this blizzard along tire tracks to get back to you. and in fact, I’m kind of looking forward to it. so please answer the door when I knock.