Bliznarok Jonas, Day 1

There's a special kind of quiet in the city this morning. The normal hustle and bustle of the morning commute is absent. No impatient drivers rushing to jobs they hate. Tourists are missing; having cancelled their trips or are hibernating in their hotel room. That's my theory anyway--I still haven't left my room.

The end is near.

Bliznarok Jonas is nearly upon us and the City of Baltimore is looking forward to as much as Camp Rock 3.

It had been a rough night. The guy I'm traveling with is prone to conversations both laconic and verbose; he doesn't say much until he gets going. Sentence punctuation is optional. His sleep is very much the same; brief bouts of silence punctuated by rips and snores. Though maybe it wasn't the chainsaw symphony that kept me awake, but the thought of the impending storm. The blizzard's plodding approach has cast more concern and anxiety among Washingtonians and Baltimorites... Baltimorons... Baltimoreans... than rush hour traffic.

Breakfast is functional. Some sort of egg turnover with a slice of cheese in the middle and sausage patties that could be used as coasters. I go for a second serving.

Fox & Friends beats the storm panic drums in the background. A business traveler drones on the phone at the table next to me, while the rest of the Hampton Inn's guests enjoy what could be their last warm meal until spring.

I venture out. It's time to see what this storm has wrought.

What fools these mortals be.

The streets are distractingly... normal. Must be my imagination, or softened West Coast sensibilities. After all, our snow tends to stay in the mountains in a somewhat civilized fashion. Here, the chilled precipitation mixes with everyday life. Ironically bringing that same everyday life to a standstill.

But not here in Charm City, Not yet. Somewhere out there, a meteorological beast closes in on the hunt, seeking sustenance, with an insatiable lust for monochromacy and snow angels.

All we can do now is wait...