Last week was our first “big” Asheville snowstorm of the year. As expected:
- The supermarkets were a fucking jungle, and the milk and bread aisles were pretty picked over (this post is also an excuse for my annual “Why do people who don’t regularly purchase bread and milk find the need to consume it when it snows?” rant too).
- All anyone could talk about was whether or not they’d be able to leave their homes.
- When the “snow” “hit” on Friday, traffic slowed to a crawl, clogging up downtown and 240.
How much snow did we receive? A mere dusting that stuck to cars and vegetation but not to paved roadways. As of this writing (Sunday morning of 1/21), there is no snow left to be found at the lower elevations.
The people of Asheville always have an excuse for their inability to drive, sanely grocery shop, or healthily exist during the snow. “We’re not used to it down here,” they’ll say. “We don’t get snow often.”
Only…I will have been in Asheville for four years come next week. Every year I’ve been here, there’s been one or two significant snowstorms, some much worse than the dusting we got last week. This is not an anomaly. Yes, Asheville is not blanketed in snow for most of the winter, but it’s a mountain town with extremely indecisive weather whose temperatures regularly dip below 32 degrees from December through March. I’m sorry, folks, but snow comes with that territory. It happens often enough that you should know how to not slow down to a 15 mph crawl on a highway just because it’s flurrying. It happens enough that you should know you don’t need to inexplicably rob Ingles of 7-10 gallons of milk that will inevitably be poured down a sink.
I should say it’s not just Ashevillians who are guilty of this extremely annoying phenomenon. When I lived in Lancaster, Pennsylvania, a mere three hours south of where I grew up in PA’s great white north, they acted similarly. No one knew how to drive in the snow. People freaked out over it. They’d say, “We don’t get snow like this in this part of the state,” and yet…the 5 years I lived there, there was at least one huge snowstorm—and often multiple—a year.
What’s the cause of this extremely annoying phenomenon? I have no clue.
“But Pat,” you might say, “have some patience. Extend some grace. You grew up north of the wall, where this was commonplace. For us, this only happens once in a while.”
And to that, I say:
- I only have to change a flat tire once or twice every two years, but it’s still a skill I have.
- I do my taxes once every year. I still know how to do them.
- I’ve never had to give the Heimlich maneuver, but I know how to do it.
I could go on, but think I’ve rested my case. Grow up, Count Chocula.
AshevilleExplorer 