"It was mid-March 1993. My mother, an avid Weather Channel watcher, had advised against going into DC to meet my friend for dinner. Snow was predicted. But I ignored her admonitions. I knew how to drive in the snow; I'd lived in Michigan for eight years! I enjoyed a lovely dinner at the Shoreham Hotel with my college classmate and her husband. There was a lot of laughter. We paid no attention to the weather."
"After our raucous meal, I headed to the lobby. I noticed that there was a huge gathering in the ballroom of the hotel. The sign read "Black Entertainment Television Annual Awards." No wonder there had been a large fleet of limos in front of the hotel when I arrived. As I rounded the corner, I could hear the doorman talking excitedly to a tall, handsome gentleman."
"To my surprise, Jesse Jackson turned and replied, "That would be wonderful. My driver seems to have disappeared and I want to get home. There's a terrible storm coming. They're calling it the Snowstorm of the Century." I asked Jackson to remain where he was so I could go to get my car. I ran through the snow in my pink slingback heels."
The narrator ignored weather warnings and drove into Washington, DC, for a mid-March 1993 dinner at the Shoreham Hotel. The hotel hosted the Black Entertainment Television Annual Awards, producing a large fleet of limousines. Jesse Jackson's driver was missing in the lobby, and the narrator offered him a ride. A severe storm began, labeled the Snowstorm of the Century, as the narrator ran through accumulating snow in pink slingback heels to retrieve a 1992 Sunbird convertible parked several blocks away. The narrator cleared snow by hand, started the car, and returned to find the small convertible dwarfed by dozens of black limousines.
Read at Washingtonian - The website that Washington lives by.
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