
On Saturday, February 4, 1995, a huge snowstorm hit Boston shutting down the airport. On Sunday, February 5, 1995, I flew out of Memphis to Boston for a week of training. We had no issue on the flight. It was when we got off the plane that the issues began. As we approached the baggage pick-up area, the doors to the outside opened. A blast of air came through the doors that was colder than any that I had ever felt. My first thought was that I didn’t want to go outside. We soon caught a cab. Our driver was a man with dark skin that we assumed was an immigrant because of his accent. I’m not sure what language he was speaking on his radio. It sounded like he was saying, “Ju ju ju ju ju ju.” We never heard a word that sounded like anything else. He took us to the Four Seasons Hotel where our training was being conducted. This hotel was next to Boston Common, the oldest city park in the United States.