Letter: SnowGlobe ‘a lot of loud confusing fun’
I drove home the other night and passed several groups of happy Snow Globers who wore less reflective clothing than a bear with its eyes closed. As I waited for a light to turn green, the leader of one division looked both ways before he walked straight into the path of an oncoming car. Had it not been for the driver’s cat-like reflexes, along with an unseasonable lack of snow and ice on the road, the spiderman-suit-clad teenager with a raccoon hat would have been whisked away to Barton’s emergency room.
As a curmudgeon outsider, I have no idea what this SnowGlobe thing is about. Yet the annual event has afforded me the opportunity to stay up late at night and surmise what a fantastic place it must be for the youth of today.
The SnowGlobe reminds me of my own misspent youth, when Lake Tahoe was the place to be on New Year’s Eve. We came to Tahoe in great waves, piled into willing driver’s vehicles. Not much forethought or consideration was given to snow chains, four-wheel-drive, warm clothing, food, money or where to spend the night. We came to party.
Years before smart phones and prior to the installation of the sidewalk railings that now make their inexorable presence, we migrated to Stateline like lost cattle. An hour or so before midnight, U.S. 50 was closed to make way for the unrelenting stampedes of drunken youth, and yours truly — now a curmudgeon. The crowd was crammed with happy faces, and the loud profusion of voices that was punctuated by a multitude of steamy breaths that rose up in the cold night air.
Many found new warm friends of the opposite sex. A few of the more inebriated may not remember that they climbed up poles and on top of statues and got into arguments and fights. But they did — I saw them. Horse-mounted policemen with helmets and nightsticks added to all the excitement.
Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one … happy New Year! Overcome with jubilation, people hugged and kissed, and personal items, including a few champagne bottles — that luckily didn’t hurt anyone — were thrown high in the air. It was the place to be. And before you knew it, it was time to figure out how to get back home.
Although I do not attempt to understand the SnowGlobe, I have a keen sense of what it is — a lot of loud confusing fun. For me, now a South Lake Tahoe resident, perhaps payback is a ####.
South Lake Tahoe, California