I loved the ten years I spent living in Boston-but I hated the snow. I hated navigating the streets of Eastie, shoveling out after a snowfall only to have a city plough come along and dump it all back on my car, and I especially hated the thaw when I'd forget, and step into a pile of cold slush at the corner. That said, seven and a half feet of snow (and more on the way) would have been the end of me. Seems some stir-crazy locals have come up with a way to entertain themselves:
For the non-locals, "Loon Mountain" is a ski resort.
The frightening thing is that I know people that would do this-for all I know they might have already.