What is worse than your normal 30 minute commute taking 4 hours in a blizzard? Talking about it with channel 12, actually being ON TV and missing the chance to see yourself on TV because you were outside shovelling the sidewalk so you could get your car into the garage when it aired.

One of my earliest memories is waking up from a nap and sitting in my crib playing “Donahue.” I was pretending to be Phil Donahue and my stuffed animals were lined up around the bumper as my “guests.” Remember, this was ca. 1981 and I don’t believe there were any female talk show hosts at the time. As far as my memory goes back, I wanted to be on TV.

26 years later brings us to this afternoon. I left work and drove about 5-10 mph the whole way due to poor road conditions as the wet snow fell fast and furious. I can bike home from work in a hour. I think I could run home in 2.5 hours. Instead I drove home and found myself 11 miles into the 15 mile journey 2 hours after I commenced the trip. Stop and Shop was right on the way and I needed bananas. I had decided to make banana pudding to thank my team in acknowledgement of tomorrow being my last day of work, however I found myself sans bananas. This would not do. Although the Stop and Shop parking lot was dicey at best, the store was quiet, there were bananas a-plenty, and the checkout line was non-existent. Plus, I needed to stretch my legs.

Leaving the store, I found the Channel 12 News Truck just 2 parking spots away from mine. What luck! As I scraped off my windshield, they wrapped up their interview with another shopper and turned the camera to me. My day had arrived. So what if my makeup was 90% worn off, and I was scraping my car with a flipper? The reported inquired
“What are you doing here?”
“Oh, I needed bananas.”
“You couldn’t go without bananas in a blizzard?”
“I needed to make a banana pudding for tomorrow since its my last day of work, but I had no bananas at home.” (Duh! Doesn’t everyone make a banana pudding when they are snowed in?)
“And what are you using to scrape your car?”
“Oh… a flipper! Poor planning, on my part… I really don’t know where my scraper is…. Last winter was so mild, and I was in North Carolina before that. But the flipper was in my trunk. I thought I was going to the pool but I guess I’m going straight home.”
“It’s actually working, though.”
“Oh yeah, this is innovation right here. I think Speedo has the patent on this one already though.”
They asked me what the roads were like and I described what a nightmare it was. I hopped back in the car and excitedly called my dad to let him know of the possibility of my imminent fame. I considered calling everyone I know, or at least a few more people but decided against it, in favor of focusing on the trecherous drive.

At 6:10pm, (four miles and two LONG hours later) I finally dragged my wet feet and tired body up the stairs, opened my door, took my coat off, and started to head toward the living room to set the dvr up for the Channel 12 6 o’clock news when my phone rang. It was my dad asking me if I’d seen myself on TV. He and my mom said I looked great on TV. But I wanted to see it myself!!! My parents were the last people I knew to get an answering machine or cable. Alas they don’t have Tivo.

My moment is gone forever, unless they replay it on the 11 o’clock news, which my sweet dad assured me they probably will. He understands what its like to desire fame, regardless of circumstance. You see, this is in my blood. My dad was on the Antiques Road Show last spring and you better believe he hosted a pizza party for all his friends and relatives the night it aired. I feel my wish to be famous is as part of my genetic makeup as the fact that I grew to be 5 feet tall or that I have brown eyes. I am too tired to stay up for the 11:00 news, but I will drift off to sleep in much the same way my I imagine most children do on Christmas Eve… knowing I was good most of the year, hoping to wake up to find trees blanketed in the purest of white snow, and the treasures for which I have longed so painfully in the DVR queue… or under the tree. Whatevs.