Tonight I had to trek over to the UPS facility on 43rd and 11th Avenue – otherwise known as a godforsaken area of Manhattan that is light years away from civilization – to pick up a package.
Let me just start off by saying: Not having a doorman, or at least a willing bodega next door, to receive deliveries REALLY SUCKS. I am convinced that the UPS delivery person for our street refuses to ring our buzzer, because somehow, every time, I get ONE NOTICE on our front door that is coincidentally the FINAL NOTICE. Thus the hike to no-man’s land to retrieve my packages.
So there I am, trekking back four avenues, in heels no less, to the nearest subway when heavy snow flurries begin to appear. Great, I think to myself. I am disgruntled, probably mumbling under my breath, shivering in a hunch while I wait for the light to change, when a jolly woman to my left leans toward me and says, “It’s snowing!!”
Blank stare.
“I’m sahrry, I’m fruhm South Carolinah, and we just don’t see this very owftuhn!” She does a twirl…an actually twirl!
That southern drawl that now sounds so foreign to me really snapped me out of my grumpus. She was right. Snow is cool! And I remembered how much I loved it those first couple of years in New York.
It’s also amazing to me how people from the South will talk to a flag pole if it’ll listen, and they don’t miss a second to tell you where they’re from. New Yorkers have a lot of pride, but I think Southerners might have more.
So thank you, overly friendly Dixie chick, for reminding me that I actually do love the winter weather here, and how the first snowfall of the season will always remind me of when I first came to this enchanted city.








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