A Frosty Prelude to Chaos
What started as a harmless, frosty cocktail of sleet on Sunday night turned into an all-out snowpocalypse by Monday morning as the Blizzy Glizzy hit Topeka like a rogue hay bale in a Kansas windstorm. By the time the storm wrapped up Monday night, the capital city had taken the full 14-inch pounding, shutting down schools, highways, and any remaining shred of hope that Kansans can handle snow with dignity.
The chaos began with a slick mix of sleet Sunday evening, coating streets like a prelude to disaster. By 1 a.m. Monday, snowflakes were falling faster than Eucalyptus Properties hitting decline on phone calls about trash pickup. By dawn, residents waking up to a blanket of white quickly realized it wasn’t the good kind you see on holiday cards.
Plows and Panic
Plows were out in full force—or at least as full as Topeka’s modest snow budget allows—but they were no match for the relentless assault. “I haven’t seen anything like this since ’09,” muttered one snowplow driver, nursing a gas station coffee in his cab. “And I wasn’t even on the job back then—I was in my driveway screaming into the void.”
Citizens attempted to adjust in their own Topeka ways. Some embraced the storm with Midwestern practicality. “I shoveled six times today,” said a man on 29th Street, holding a snow shovel with a bent handle. “It’s my cardio now.” Others, less optimistically, decided to lean into the chaos. “I knew it was over when my dog jumped into the snow and disappeared,” said one North Topeka woman. “I’ll find him in April.”
Drivers and Daring Feats
Meanwhile, drivers across the city did what they do best in bad weather: pretend physics doesn’t exist. Cars were abandoned at odd angles all over I-70, while brave souls attempted the daring feat of “seeing if this mini van can handle it.” Spoiler: It couldn’t.
Businesses and Breakdowns
Local businesses were equally unprepared. A single gas station on Topeka Blvd remained open, fueled solely by sheer Midwestern stubbornness and a supply of donuts that seemed suspiciously infinite. Meanwhile, Walmart closed early—an event so rare that witnesses were waiting for someone run over the new stop sign while drifting in the parking lot.
Schools closed for not one but two days, sparking joy in children and panic in parents. “I love my kids, but after hour six, I was Googling ‘legal ways to send children back to school,’” said one mother, stuck indoors with her energetic brood.
Snowed In, Kansas Style
Even Topeka’s famed weather-defiant residents admitted defeat. “You know it’s bad when even the guy in shorts stays inside,” said a man in Oakland, staring at the snowdrift from his blinds.
City officials declared the Blizzy Glizzy a “record-setting winter event” and reminded residents to clear their sidewalks within 48 hours, to which one citizen replied, “Sure, I’ll get right on that—right after I figure out where my car is.”
Hope Springs Eternal (in April)
For now, Topeka is left with sore backs, buried mailboxes, and the undeniable knowledge that no matter how much we prep for snow, the Blizzy Glizzy will always have the last laugh.
Stay warm out there, Topeka—and remember, spring is only three months away. Maybe.
