Vermont no longer has a monopoly on winter. We’re finally reclaiming our rightful place at the top of the ugly weather food chain in Boston.

After my employer sent everybody home in the afternoon, helping to create a glorious miniature rush hour by about 2 pm, I got to watch the rest of the city quietly fall apart.

By 6:00 traffic on my street was almost completely immobile for blocks, with drivers lounging about in the snow, finding themselves unusually useless in their cars. This morning I found my coworkers’ median added commute time yesterday was two hours. Keith Lockhart announced at yesterday’s Holiday Pops, “The record so far is 7.5 hours,” referring (I think) to one of the violinists.

I took particular delight in watching a woman’s failed attempts to extract her car from the plow-induced snow bank from my apartment window. Forcing the car forward and backward an inch at a time did nothing. Enlisting the help of a snow blower may have helped, but not much. What really made it art was when she finally started to get free as the snow plow blew by again, recreating the entire mess.

It’s not that I delight in watching people who drive suffer but… well, yeah, it’s that I delight in watching people who drive suffer. See, me, on the T? I got home yesterday in 30 minutes. The day before that I got home in 30 minutes too. Really every day I’ve ever commuted in Boston it’s taken me 30 minutes to do it. Friday night, Saturday morning, during an ordinary rush hour, and now during a blizzard, it takes 30 minutes.

And when I went back out again to get to Holiday Pops? With all those blocks and blocks of stopped cars on Comm. Ave? It took me 30 minutes.

Take that, drivers.