Thursday, March 5, 2015

Little Snow Angels

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Christopher and Nico in Gatlinburg, TN

March 5, 2015

My son Nico turned 7 this past February. The only good thing about him being a Leap Year baby is that he's technically only 1 and a half. If you think about it in Leap Years, I haven't aged between 2008, 2012, and 2016 years. My son is on the Summer Olympics' 4-year rotation.  

He will keep me forever young because when I'm in a nursing home at 80, I can brag I have a 12-year-old! They'll never let me out of there.

This year's birthday, the Florida boy wanted to see snow. Snow isn't easy to come by in the Sunshine State, especially South Florida, where it hasn't snowed since 1977. Had we been living in the northeast, around the Massachusetts area, he'd have had his share of snow to last him a lifetime. Most people in the northern states have had their fill during this 2014- 2015 snow year.

Starting a new year out as Snow Angels may help give us good luck throughout the year, so we were going to go find that glistening white snow! 

It's about a 13-hour drive to Gatlinburg, Tennessee, and the area had snow dumped on them a few days before February 28th. I decided on a whim we'd go drive up there so he and his brother could roam the land on the ice.

We left on a Friday at about 12:30 PM.

"Dad, we forgot the phone," my son said.

Okay, we left the house at 12:40PM.

The minivan trucked up interstate I-95 on our way to see some "snowmen," My kid's reference to snow is considered Olaf. Thanks, Frozen, thanks, Disney.

By 7PM, I realized my GPS had taken me too far east, not China, and I had to make my way back to the center as we drove through South Carolina to get to Tennessee.

At 2:30 AM on Saturday, February 28th, the GPS had me on Crooked Branch Road, a little one-lane mountain road no closer to Gatlinburg. Talk about a crock, not crooked!

At about 3:30AM, there it was! Our Hilton Hotel is squeezed between a tired old lodge, a parking lot garage, and a view of the trees where the view of the river was obstructed.

I checked us in, carried the boys to their room, and settled in for a nice sleep-in.

7:30AM February 28th.

"Oh my God! Snow! Come on, Dad, get up, get up!" my son yelled.

It was a Christmas morning nightmare all over again.

By the time 9 AM came, we were downstairs. The boys ran to the double automatic doors, exited the front lobby, and wasted no time, stopping short and simply reaching out and touching the snow. Both my sons studied it. Peered at it. Poked at it. When they finally realized it was real, "Olaf" threw each other into it.

"Come on, Dad, let's go, snow! Jump in it!"

Do you know if I did? Of course, I did!

I hadn't seen Gatlinburg, Tennessee, in about 10 years. I hadn't stayed there in about 20 years. And nothing had changed. Which is bad. Sadly, the buildings appeared old and dilapidated. Everything was squeezed into a bit of space and stacked like Checkers in a game of Connect-Four. The area seemed dirtier and a little dumpier. It was a shame because it seemed majestic when I went there as a kid. Now, here, visiting here as an adult? Not as much. It was like trying to relive my youth and being as disappointed as those guys in the 80's Hot Tub Time Machine movie. 

Thankfully, our Hilton was new and up to date.

By 12 Noon, we had made our way up the mountain on the cable tram and reached the summit. For my son, there was more glorious snow! And on top of that snow, there were these people. And these people were on skis.

"Dad, that is amazing! What are they doing on top of Olaf?!"

"They're skiing guys. It's like a back rub for Olaf."

By 3 PM, they were on skis.

By 4 PM, they were in ski school.

By 5 PM, I was apologizing to all the skiers who crashed on the slope due to avoiding my boys, who were zig-zagging their way downhill. They were fearless!

By the time 10 PM came around, the boys passed out in their beds. Shortly after, I passed out. We were on the road by 1130 AM on March 1st. Headed back to Florida.

I took interstate I-75 this time, hoping to shave some drive time off the 804-mile trip. We stopped several times but were home at 2:30 AM on March 2nd. What a whirlwind.

My sons keep me young. It's too bad my oldest birthday is on the Summer Olympic rotation instead of the Winter Olympics because they tackled Olaf with all the skill of a northerner. And I kept up with them the whole time, which proves my theory of my son, both of them keeping me forever young. They're such little snow angels.



Christopher and Nico (near) skiing 

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