"I'm kinda bummed I missed the flood this year" I thought to myself while I drove down a twisting, scenic road next to the river. I smiled to myself because I'm not sure if people would laugh at my dialect or feeling.
Take this dialect quiz to see where you're from (sorry, it's just the US). I am clearly from Cleveland, but I could go to Toledo or Detroit without an interpreter.
At my first college party a boy said, "You're from one of those W cities by Cleveland, aren't you?" ?! That's a pretty specific 10 square miles in the world, and people on TV talk like me. Mostly. But even westsiders think I have an accent. I don't see it since they're the ones who talk like farmers. Sometimes people even ask if I'm British. That's people from Cleveland, mind you. No offense to my British friends, but I'm pretty sure you know you talk funny. I know because I've watched all the Harry Potters. Besides, everybody I've known since I was a kid talks my way.
As for missing the flood... well, I love the spring floods and we haven't had a good one in a long time. Part of it's that people see my river in the summer and say ignorant things like "Aw, that's a pretty, little crick" without realizing that they're insulting and underestimating a force that I love.
Okay, it doesn't have a whole lot of water in it the summer, but it is the fastest river in Ohio -- which has to count for something. When it freezes solid like it did this year, with many tons of snow on it, I expected a big event, but alas, I missed it. It's a mere 6' deep now and the ice on the sides is nonremarkable and melting fast.
When I was about 10 or so, I was listening to the neighborhood men laying bets on when the ice would break. We heard a low, moaning, creak in the dark night -- but nothing happened so they kept betting and drinking. Creeeeak. Hmmm... the men revised some bets. CRACK!!!
The water oozed under the ice and we started walking slowly backwards. The men laughed and popped open more beer. The water kept coming, so we walked backwards a little faster. Still coming, then really coming, and we turned around and ran as fast as we could and still barely managed to escape while the river ice folded on top of itself in a roaring blast before it broke free, smashing everything and everyone in its path.
The next day there was mud in some houses and other houses had been rearranged. Above the river banks huge blocks of ice rose like staggering skyscrapers after the apocalypse. Climbing those blocks was a terribly bad idea since they were super slick slides straight into the roaring river. (Which doesn't mean I didn't try before ceding to some common sense.) The National Weather Service says the record flood was 18' deep, but I could swear I've seen it higher. Any way you look at it though, it's Nature's orgasm with a lot of water moving as fast as it can to Lake Erie.
Photos are from a parking lot I was in earlier today. Keep in mind that stuff has been rained on and melting for days!