Omigod
Snow!
For
those of you who may have
never lived here, visited
here, or heard about us on
TV, here's a little trivia
about life in New England:
it snows. Now I'm not talking
about Buffalo-quantity snow,
but you can pretty much guarantee
that every year you are going
to see four or five decent
snow storms. Usually they
occur only on the days when
you have something really
important planned, or days
when you're trying to take
an airplane out of New England
to escape - you guessed it
- the snow.
I
mention this only because
it seems like every year there
are a lot of people who forget
that it's going to snow in
New England. And most of them
live here.
It
starts whenever the first
few random snow flakes happen
to fall from the sky. There
is no ice or slush - just
a couple of harmless white
crystals fluttering down and
melting the moment they touch
the asphalt. All of a sudden
supposedly hearty New Englanders
start driving like southern
Californians caught in a rain
storm - brake lights, 20 miles
an hour in the passing lane,
terrified to switch lanes.
A twenty minute ride becomes
a three-hour nightmare as
you try to dodge the slow
moving vehicles while being
overtaken by the SUVs screaming
by at 90 miles an hour oblivious
to the other cars grinding
to a halt around them. Vehicles
drive into one another in
the chaos, creating accidents
that slow traffic even further.
In the end, of course, had
everyone just driven as they
normally do when the pavement
is wet (not icy) there would
have been no problem at all.
Then
there's the first prediction
of a major storm. Friends
in upstate New York or Minnesota
will laugh when I explain
that a major storm can mean
anything over three inches
of snow. As soon as people
hear that a "major"
storm is coming, malls start
closing, schools cancel in
advance of the next day, and
the department stores and
supermarkets become overrun
with shoppers all trying to
stock up on "survival"
supplies like milk, bread
and flashlights.
Of
course, it's usually then
that I end up being at the
store simply trying to pick
up my daily hit of diet Coke.
Shelves are bare, the lines
are long, and what should
be a three minute trip becomes
a major ordeal.
But
here's the thing - it's the
year 2002. Mother nature can
certainly take her toll on
us, but it's not like it was
back when the pilgrims landed.
Those of you from states with
earthquakes and hurricanes
know real weather threats
- here in New England we have
more of a weather inconvenience.
We just act like it's a big
deal.
To
wit: even when we got whacked
by a blizzard a few years
ago, the smallest side streets
were passable within 24 hours.
McDonalds was still open,
most power outages were restored
quickly and if yours wasn't,
you could have just stayed
with friends or gotten a hotel
room.
Are
you telling me that my fellow
yankees, supposedly known
for their pragmatism and stalwartness,
don't have enough food in
their pantries to last a few
days? Geez - I'm a single
musician and I'VE got plenty
of food to last for a week.
Two if you include macaroni
and cheese.
Naturally
it's a different story by
the fifth or sixth snow storm
of the season. Weathermen
don't get panicked, there's
plenty of bread in the stores,
and schools won't close even
if there's a foot of snow
on the ground. Driving is
still a nightmare, but then
it's because you're trying
to dodge all the wrecked SUV's
of drivers who apparently
never took enough physics
to learn that four wheel drive
provides no more traction
on ice at 90 miles an hour
than two wheel drive.
But
suffice it to say that by
February snow ceases to be
something either terrifying
or beautiful and instead becomes
just another thing for us
persevering New Englanders
to endure. As with many of
the other unique aspects of
living in the Northeast, we
learn to deal and adapt.
Well,
at least until the first snow
of NEXT year.
This
column © 2002 Lee Totten.
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