A guy flew past me on his snowboard as I hiked up the hill in the snow. It was one o'clock in the morning, and the snow was falling heavily, but visibility was still good enough for me to turn and follow the snowboarder's descent. He worked the powder on his way down, switching left then right along the narrow run, keeping an eye out for other skiers, sledders, and the occasional Ford Taurus. 

I actually felt bad for the Ford Taurus, this man attempting to drive up 65th Ave from Ballard to Phinney in the wee hours of Sunday morning, in a snow storm while people were sledding down the street. On most nights this would be an easy and short drive home from the pub, his only worry dodging cops, but on this night he found himself dodging snowballs. 

A crew had assembled spontaneously, maybe thirty people, adults spilling out of pubs and parties, hauling makeshift sleds of cardboard boxes, baking pans and garbage can lids, to hike up what was usually a busy street, but now, under a blanket of snow, was a party.

Seattle has sanctioned street parties in the summer.  Neighbors get a permit from the city, put a few cones at one end of the street and wonder why everyone brought hummus and pita to the street potluck.  This party was different.  The snow was our permit, and the unlucky Taurus did not get the invite.

You can't blame us.  We haven't had a snow storm like this in a decade.  Winter storms are too rare for the city to invest in plows and chains. We'd never let crews salt roads that run next to our organic gardens and drain into the sound. Seattle's plan for snow is simply to stay put and enjoy it.  And that's what we did, by the hundreds, young and old.

The city's plan is a good one.  Christmas is a time to slow down.  Instead of trekking to malls in cars, Seattle enjoyed its walkability.  We're not stuck.  Even that guy in the Ford Taurus abandoned the idea of driving up a snowy hill full of sledders, turned down a flat side street to escape the snow mob, parked his car, walked back to us, picked up a piece of cardboard and thrust himself down the hill with wild abandon. Or at least that's what I imagine he did - there's no way he would have revealed himself to us after that stunt with the Taurus.

I found myself walking up that snowy hill with my friends, pulling a borrowed Radio Flyer sled behind me, the holiday cheer making all of us a little braver than normal. We walked up three blocks to the group of strangers at the top, strangers who were laughing and cheering, sharing their makeshift sleds and offering suggestions for the descent.  By some snowy miracle, the real ice had temporarily replaced Seattle N(ice) and turned us all into goofy little kids, sliding down hills. 

Grabbing the Radio Flyer with both gloved hands, I leaped into the air (or somewhat stumbled depending on your perspective) and belly flopped down with the sled onto the snow.  I slid downward, faster and faster, first one block and then another, remembering long lost steering skills, until I reached the base of the hill, grinned a huge grin, and then ran up the hill to do it again. 

So on this Christmas Eve, whereever you are - snow or no snow, I hope you're with people you love, throwing yourself down some joyful path, and loving every minute of it. 

Merry Christmas!