winter in white rock.

I had a job interview tonight at a church in White Rock, an upper-class town on the shores of the Pacific Ocean. Unfortunately, my interview coincided with the first real sign of winter in BC: snow. I say unfortunately for one reason, and that reason has to do with the reaction BC drivers tend to have towards the fluffy white stuff: panic. Sheer panic. A drive that should have taken 25 minutes turned into an hour and a half of agony as traffic came to a grinding halt, and I showed up for the interview half an hour late. Granted, there was quite a bit of snow, and most of the Lower Mainland has no way of cleaning it up. It usually sits on the ground for a day at most before warmer temperatures melt it away. But I'm not sure there was enough snow to account for the poor state of traffic I encountered everywhere I turned. So, in memory of this night, a poem:

Winter in White Rock

Snow fall, snow fall, it covers the land,
Roads are a mess, with not a spot of sand.

Cars in the ditches, hazards aglow:
Oh look! A Mercedes is stuck in snow!

Luxury cars, they put up no fight;
Beamer to the left, Lexus to the right.

Snow fall, snow fall, it covers the land,
Roads are a mess, with not a spot of sand.