Winter has officially begun in upstate New York. I awoke yesterday morning to find about 3-4 inches of snow on the ground. It was Sunday, and I could have just stayed home, but I decided I would pretend that it was a workday and see how I fared. I bravely brushed off my car and headed over to a coffee shop for a bagel. I survived the experiment and am bracing myself for a New York winter.
It’s not that it never snows in the south. It does snow, but we have traditional ways of coping with it. In the south when it snows we panic. Or more accurately, we sort of faux-panic. We know (well, most of us) that snow is not necessarily the herald of armagedon, but it snows infrequently enough that we can all pretend it is. We begin with the traditional raid upon the grocery store, where we stock up on bread, milk, and toilet paper. Then we retreat to our homes where we drink hot chocolate, work on our Christmas cards, and watch TV. If we’re lucky, we can find some footage of those crazy northerners skidding all over the roads and making a mess of things. We might call in to work to tell them we’re not coming in, but chances are they already know that. In the south, no one expects you to be anywhere when it’s snowing.
Here in New York, I gather that I am expected to behave as normally as possible, even in the face of socially unacceptable weather. I’m sure I’ll get used to it, but the southern method still seems safer and more fun.