Chicago’s cold weather camaraderie
It’s cooooold.
Checked the morning this weather: windchill of 2°. Yep. Dropped the pants, donned the long johns, put the pants back on. That’s what you’ve got to do in Chicago. You’ve got to be prepared for the weather. What do they say in football? “The best offense is a good defense?”
Chicago folks deal with the cold. We do it well. Mention to fair weather dwellers that you live here and their eyes get big. “Oh, the winter weather!” they exclaim, laying a hand tenderly on your forearm as if the pain must be unbearable. “However do you manage?”
Well, it sucks, yeah, but you can put on gloves and a hat and it helps. For me, waiting for the “L” is certainly the worst, especially at 6:30 p.m. after a long day’s work. At that point, I just want to get home and watch some college basketball. It’s especially annoying when four or five Brown Line trains come and the yuppies merrily pile on while I wait for the slow-ass Purple to meander into Belmont.
But the cold weather has an upside too. There’s a camaraderie that comes with the cold. Everyone’s in it together and everyone knows it sucks. Everyone’s bundled up and uncomfortable. Everyone’s brushing up against each other in poofy coats that double their girth. Even the crime rate goes down. Maybe that’s because once this 2° windchill crap rolls around, all the criminals realize, “Man, we’re all in this together.” I wouldn’t put it past them.
Or maybe their hands are just too cold to pick the bike locks.