So once we wrapped up the various web-only videos that we always tape in the third quarter of the Sunday night game, Rodney Harrison and I changed out of our jackets and ties and headed back to the hotel. Under normal conditions, it’s a five-minute walk from 30 Rock.
Tonight, there was nothing normal about it.
The snow fell and the wind blew and it literally was painful against the face and forehead. Rodney laughed the whole way, even though he didn’t really seem all that amused.
The three blocks up Sixth Avenue felt like 30 miles, with snow piled up everywhere on the sidewalk and in the streets, an endless treadmill of slipping and sliding. We used the bags containing the suits for our trip to Philly to try to shield our heads from the onslaught, but it didn’t help.
Once we turned onto the more narrow side street that leads to the hotel, it was better. But it was still pretty bad.
Rodney paused long enough in the street to grab a clump of snow and hurl it at my head. I was too numb to notice whether it actually connected.
So if it’s anything in Philly like it is in New York, I finally understand why they didn’t play tonight. I delivered newspapers as a kid under every type of weather condition imaginable, including an episode of freezing rain that required me to crawl across a fairly busy street on my hands and knees. I was never in like this.
But we’re now safe and warm and I can work on the 10-pack and hopefully finish it before midnight and maybe edit it in the morning. I’ll be working on PFT all day tomorrow, and we’ll be heading to Philly on Tuesday to do the halftime and post-game thing from Lincoln Financial Field with Bob Costas and the recent of the NBC crew.
If you’re in the middle of this stuff, stay inside. Rest, relax, read PFT. And then read some more PFT.
