And while I hate to lose my scoffing privileges, the fact is, Minneapolis always beats us for cold and upstate New York always beats us for show (three feet is an easy winter in Syracuse), but they don't front because they aren't headline-grabbing show-offs like Chicago and New York are.
Truthfully, I sort of like the blizzards. The first huge one we had here, in '98, was quite thrilling: I decided to walk up to the convenience store on the corner, just to see how long it took. It took half an hour, and the store is a block away. Trudging through snow that came up past my knees made me feel adventurous and cool (well, cold), and it was breathtaking to hear the absolute flood of silence in a city that's noisy every minute of every day. People stopped their cars in the middle of busy streets rather than try and get any farther in the snow; a semi truck had crashed into the mattress factory right near my building and stayed there, blocking traffic, for three days. I'm glad I don't have to live in it all the time, but it's intermittently fascinating: a glimpse of post-apocalyptic (or pre-civilization) life, a reminder that nature has still got us all in check.