Well, I fucking HATE Chicago winters. I’ve always felt that it takes one extraordinarily ballsy person to survive multiple Chicago winters, let alone one. Our winters sometimes start around now, the middle of November, and during other years, it may not start until the beginning of January. When it comes, we all know it. The winds start to pick up. The days seem to get shorter. Sunlight is scarce. Then, we wake up in the morning and see frost on car windows. The ground is rock hard. Next comes the ice. And the black ice. Then the snow starts to fall, and before you know it, slush. Salt trucks are aplenty (in the more affluent neighborhoods) and cars and trucks fishtail everywhere around the city. This isn’t madness. This. Is. A. Chicago. Winter.
In general, Chicagoans are a kind-hearted bunch. We’re not like our brethren to the east and west, who immerse themselves in…themselves. We’re not completely out of the loop like our friends down south. And we’re not living in our own little boring world like our fellow Americans in the north. We’re polite, cordial, nice, genuine, and any other adjective you can think of that would paint Chicagoans in a flattering light. However, when December 21 comes…stay the hell out of our way. Don’t walk slowly in front of us down the street. Don’t lollygag when we’re trying to get work done. Don’t fidget around with your car/house keys. And don’t–and I mean DO NOT–park in our parking spaces, especially when that spot is directly in front of our houses. We will go Mel Gibson on your ass and beat you severely where you stand. Saving parking spots in the winter in Chicago is an enormous deal, and it is not to be taken lightly.
I assure you, it’s not a game. Chicagoans don’t play when it comes to bad weather. “Inclement weather conditions” are the norm here in the Windy City, and you’d better believe that after residing here for a few years, we’re all smart enough to have learned how to cope with the cold, winds, snow, slush, ice, and all of the other crap that comes along with it. I’m in no way, shape, or form an advocate for men hitting women, but I’m not ashamed to say that I’d beat Mother Nature like she owed me money if she were indeed a human being.