Weary of Weather Whining

Lately in the Chicago Tribune: The cold hell begins. Ugh. Barbara Brotman, shut up. If there’s anything I hate more than a Chicagoan who whines all the time about winter (and you know you do), it’s a Chicago columnist who leads the cry of “Fie on winter!”, as Brotman does in today’s Trib column.

Is Chicago colder during winter than, say New York? Yes. Is it colder or (God forbid) snowier than, say, Minneapolis? Um, no. Although it tends to be local sport to bitch about any month that you don’t play baseball in, it’s also tiresome.

Now I realize that this is probably the only thing that Chicagoans feel comfy complaining about all the time (unlike we New Yorkers who will complain about everything all the time, just ask Devyn). But, people, just dress for the weather and get on with life.

A hat, a scarf, gloves, a good winter coat, and, eventually, longjohns, and the presence of mind to put these items on when it’s 10 or 20 degrees outside, is all you need to be happy during summer’s off-season. I mean, I’m from back east where we tend to stay inside whenever it’s below freezing and even I’ve adapted.

Now, I know this is spitting into the wind, because nothing will change in the local psyche. But the next time you’re shivering in a sub-zero windstorm, pause before you blame winter and take stock of what, exactly, it is that you’re wearing.

Of course, none of this advice applies to Chicago newbies who go around dressing in windbreakers in January and then bitching to all and sundry. If you’re that dumb, I say freeze already. Mouth first.

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Other posts you might like from Chicago Carless:
Where'd Chicago Go?: Skyscraper Roofdeck Fog Bank
It's one thing to watch the Sears Tower disappear into the murky whiteness from below. It's quite another to stand atop one of Marina City's twin, 61st-floor open-air roofdecks and try and make out the Chicago Loop from inside an aerial fog bank, itself.
When the Wind Blows (at Marina City)
Friends rarely believe me when I tell them about the grandmother on a rocking chair who lives in the walls at Marina City. At least, that's who it sounds like inhabits the cast-in-place concrete of my high-rise corncob home every time a stiff wind blows through downtown Chicago. Here's proof.
Cincinnati Jamie and the Hot Wings of Doom
The day I celebrated my 38th birthday by visiting my favorite Windy City hot wings joint, I never expected to have to outrun funnel clouds on a mad dash to make it safely home. Until the moment when every tornado siren in Chicago sounded the alarm.
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2 Comments

  1. Mike:

    I’m very happy to have discovered your site. You are too much, man….excellent writing, great humor (very important for me), witty, intelligent, extremely informative, and as Yul was fond of saying, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera. But don’t get a fat head about it. I think you should write a column for the tribune!

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