Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: FRIDAY, March 4, 1994 TAG: 9403040246
SECTION: CURRENT PAGE: NRV1 EDITION: NEW RIVER VALLEY
SOURCE: By ALLISON BLAKE STAFF WRITER|
DATELINE: BLACKSBURG LENGTH: Medium
Scrape-scrape went the ice scraper across Annie Tobin's windshield. Scrape-scrape, it went, with a certain frustration. Scrape-scrape, went the scraper, please make the ice scrape away.
She was outta there - class on Friday or not.
"My best friend goes to the University of Florida," said the Virginia Tech freshman, hell-bent for the sun's glory. "I'll be glad to get away from all the snow and ice and hit the beaches."
Who wouldn't?
Every student who could reasonably justify skipping class Friday descended on Tech's icebound student parking lot Thursday - electricity gone, classes actually cancelled - to free their wheels and bust out of this endless winter.
By the end of the day, their actions had spoken. Tech administrators canned Friday classes, too, and spring break officially began.
Friendships were cemented at the parking lot, where a couple of engineering students stopped to lend their ice scraper to Mariahna Moore, who was headed home to Charlottesville despite the usual horror stories about driving huge Afton Mountain between here and there. The engineering guys stayed till her car was ready to roll - and she purred on outta Blacksburg.
Right behind were ice warriors from Pennsylvania and New Jersey, cruising ahead of more predicted snowfall up North.
"It takes eight to 10 hours to get home, usually," said New Jerseyite Phil Brownridge. "It'll be 14 to 16 tonight. At least."
Somebody he knew had spent 10 hours trying to get to Northern Virginia through the teeth of Wednesday's storm.
Not everyone split town before word of Friday's cancellations came down: "It's tempting," said junior Connie Misket. "I've got five classes Friday."
Brad Eberhart had a test. But studying clearly was secondary in the blackened hallway of Ambler Johnston Hall, a behemoth dorm where everyone was gossiping about the person who got stuck in the elevator when the power went out.
"On the fifth floor," said Eberhart.
A few candles burned. A few flashlights flickered. "Where is our room?" someone yelled, as if anyone could see to say.
Word of class cancellations came across room telephones early that day, after a long night of inexplicable merriment in a dorm without power - though the halls had auxiliary lighting for a while - until the fire alarm went off, apparently in conjunction with the loss of auxiliary lighting.
"We played cheesy phone games," said Eberhart, confirming word that nobody went to bed until 4 a.m. "We're easily entertained."
But not so easily fed:
Outside the athletes' dining hall Thursday, a short-sleeved chef flipped burgers on a grill, a la Memorial Day. Ice weighed tree limbs above. Little old chicken nuggets tried valiantly to fry in a makeshift fryer rigged in a wok.
Thank heavens for the sterno, which warmed whatever precooked food could be found. And glory to the deli slices, cold cuts, and breads.
The line crawled down the steps in the main dining hall, called Dietrick. No Coke, just lemonade concentrate and water. No steam cooking - the university's steam-cooking rig was doused by the electrical meltdown.
"We've got gas," said Chef Gary Fitting. "We're frying."
Candles lit the fryers as they scalded chicken patties and sliced potatoes, the universal lunch.
"Tonight?" Fitting asked. "We don't know. We'll fry something."
Don't tell freshman Stephanie Halsey.
"Pretty slim pickings," she said, staring down at her mid-day fry meal. "We tried to order out.
"But everybody else was closed."
by CNB