Call it snowpocalypse.  Call it snowmaggedon.  Call it what you want, this past Wednesday was the worst winter storm to hit Portland since 1943, and I got caught in it big-time.  Portlanders can’t drive in the snow, even if it’s a light dusting—which this wasn’t, it was an onslaught that immobilized the entire metro region.  I hate driving even in perfectly good conditions, but I had to buckle down and channel some Mad Max combat driving.  Okay, more like inching along up various bridges and slanty streets while trying not to get hit by large vehicles spinning out around me. 

Things worked out fine for me overall, but my heart goes out to everyone who ended up in precarious situations, and I’m so incredibly grateful for all the good Samaritans out there who offered to help total strangers.  My family helped me through the ordeal, even from afar.  Once they knew I was safe, they all said I should write a story about my experience.  I just might someday.  It’s still too raw right now.