An Open Letter to All DC Residents Born North of the Mason-Dixon

Buried Bike

For the true Northern Cyclist, a minor setback. (Photo by Jason Persse, Creative Commons Licence)

We get it.  You are tough.

Where you are from, when it snowed, the only vehicle that could get into your driveway was one of those giant machines that Metro uses to bore train tunnels.  As a kid you used to dogsled all the way to Hudson Bay just to pick up the local paper.  And your schools never, ever, closed.  For example, there was the great blizzard of ____ where the entire school was buried for six whole months and the only thing that happened was that the kids got really, really good at their multiplication tables.

We get it.  When we close schools or the government shuts down and sends people home it must be a mortal affront not only to you but the Calvinist God that regularly chastised you as a stripling with a rod of snow and ice, turning you into the tall, straight tree that you are today.  We understand that you are not like us, that you are clearly not one of the increasing percentage of Americans who are severely under-vacationed in comparison with the rest of the free world, and who are fed up with working more for less.  In your dour Puritan world, Heaven does not smile upon he or she who spends time not making money (for someone else).

I repeat, we get it.  In fact, we will happily go further.  You are tougher than we are.  We are pussies.  We cry Uncle.  You are infinitely stronger than we, a fact we will even happily bring to your attention come July when you start pissing and moaning about how ‘hot” and “humid” it is.  That’s just a little thing we call Summer.

But we do get it.  When the city shuts down, if it weren’t for your centrally heated McMansion and your BMW with heated seats, and the fact that you secretly appreciate a snow day as much as the rest of us (although a great deal of your snow day enjoyment seems to be based on telling the rest of us how much we don’t deserve it and how tough you are)–if it weren’t for all that, we know that while everyone else is at home you would be cheerfully snow-shoeing your way into work, pausing only to tear chunks from the strip of frozen Caribou meat you always keep in your pocket for emergencies.

We get it.  Therefore, next time it snows in our region, either kindly STFU or go back to the frozen arctic wasteland where your mother birthed you in the middle of the woods while simultaneously mapping out the basis for a unified field theorem and yodeling Wagner’s Ring Cycle.

We live in the DC area.  We already are forced to play host to a bunch of chronic whiners and blowhards in the form of the nation’s elected representatives.  We really don’t need you adding your voice to the mix.

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