72° and snow

When I was a kid, probably five or thereabouts, my cousins and I would visit my grandmother's home during the winter and relive Vietnam. That's what my uncle called it. Reliving Vietnam. Even then I knew he was pretty lame. He would crack that little joke and nobody would laugh, and us kids would just stare, expressionless, until he turned back into the house for more coffee.

The snow in Anchorage never piled enormously high, not in suburban yards, but it was high enough -- three feet sometimes. For a bunch of kids under three-and-a-half feet tall, that was perfect. We would create a bucket line: one of us on our knees at the entrance to the tunnel we were building, followed by a string of us passing a Tupperware pitcher back and forth. Empty pitchers back to the house, where one of the adults would sigh and fill it again; full pitchers to the head of the line, where the tunnel rat would wet down the snow as best he could.

By morning we'd have an incredible network of icy-walled tunnels, collapse-free structures in which to have our battles. But my uncle and my dad took a perverse sort of joy in watching us play, and just when we were really starting to have fun, they'd run out and pour hot water on top of the tunnels, which would cave in around us.

I was thinking about that today when I noticed how hard it was snowing when I woke up. I sleep with a window open above my head, and the wind had gusted so hard that the screen had torn, and snow was sprayed across my bed, like that time my dad ran the snowplow through the driveway while my truck door was open. I got up and ran to the front door, threw it open, and gasped. Nearly two feet of snow during the night. Cars skidding this way and that down an icy street. Children hurling balls of packed ice at each other. Schools closed.

For a moment it was a thing of beauty. I must've had something in my eye. From weather.com: today's high 54°, low 33°. I swear it's really 72° outside my office window. Which means there's another movie quote in the title. It's brief and close enough to the actual line that you might get it. What's it from?