I saw my first sneckdown of the year on a corner of Gates Avenue, in Clinton Hill, a few yards from my apartment. The snow had stopped falling, and a plow had come through. My neighbors had shovelled their stoops. But there remained a solid mound of ice, curving out across the road, like a bumper on one side of a pool table. I walked out and tried to avoid becoming a billiard ball. Sneckdowns are something of a gray area, as they live partly on the sidewalk and partly on the street. They are where the responsibility of the individual and the responsibility of the state meet. It gets slippery.journey-inline-newsletterinline-newsletter