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An Open Letter to NYC Cowards Whining About the Weather

Cowards of New York:

Hi. I’m Dave. I live in Brooklyn, which is like Hoboken for people who aren’t stupid, or Queens for people who aren’t subcontractors. Perhaps you’re familiar; perhaps you live there too. If you live anywhere in NYC, you’re probably currently experiencing cold temperatures, freezing precipitation, and generally dismal weather. People are calling this an Alberta clipper, but there’s a simpler name for it: “winter in New York City”. Welcome to the party. Now, for the love of David Dinkins himself, kindly shut your talkhole about it. You’re making us look bad.

Look, sometimes NYC winters are cold. Sometimes you step out of the subway and get blasted with a gust of air so bone-chillingly cold, you have the immediate urge to pour a bowl of ramen down your pants. Other times, you are going to step shin-deep into a slush puddle wearing shoes you couldn’t afford to begin with. Everyone on the sidewalk is dressed like it’s a funeral at the North Pole. When it snows, they won’t pick up the trash; when it rains, the snow will turn into a slushie the color of human brains, and flow downhill into yet another puddle that’s successfully masquerading as a patch of pavement. You’ll step in that one too, and you will not complain, because who would listen? Not New York — that’s for sure.

You don’t live here for the weather.

Griping about this wintry onslaught NYC is currently braced against is like crying about how expensive your apartment is. “For this price I could have an entire house in Charlotte”, you wail, looking forlornly at the $2,100-a-month studio, furnished with your parents’ couch and liquor. True. But then you’d be in Charlotte, which, like, Q.E.D.

Bitching about New York in January is like bitching about all the lines in New York. It’s a two-hour wait for brunch? Go literally anywhere else. Trader Joe’s is mobbed? Go on a not-Sunday. The Supreme line runs down Lafayette and around the corner onto Prince, then around the other corner onto Crosby? Go f*ck yourself, then grow up.

Think about the alternatives. Are you suffering? Of course you are. I am too. But Chicago is 10 times colder, and they don’t even have actually good pizza to keep them warm. Do you wish it was sunny every day? Of course you do. So do I. But Los Angeles is sunny every day, and it’s a postmodern wasteland full of leased BMWs and human desperation. Wouldn’t it be nice if we were on the beach right now? Of course it would be. I think so too. But you could be on the beach in Miami right now, and if you were, you would have an EDM bassline pounding through your skull and someone else’s cologne seeping into your pores.

And another thing: no one cares.

“But wait,” you cry. “What about San Francisco? All my friends are moving there!” Don’t waste my time. San Francisco is a failed state being slowly choked to death by brogrammers who want to Change The World™, one hyper-local, super-scaleable, sharing-economy app at a time. It’s a nightmare teeming with terrible transportation, ugly naked people pooping on the streets, and a bajillion hills. And you know what? The weather there is no picnic, either. They’ve got “microclimates“, which I think means you’ll have to carry three different microfleeces at all times because the temperature will swing from 70 to 40 to 20 to 80 depending on… something. Who knows?! Know this: San Francisco is trash.

You want New York City’s winters to suck less. Of course you do. So do I. Don’t be ridiculous. People call that spring, and when it arrives, the weather will be fantastic… for about twenty days, after which it will get unbearably hot.

If you need to complain, we’ve got the Knicks.

If you haven’t caught on by now, let me spell it out for you: you don’t live in NYC for the weather. You live here because it’s the greatest city in the world. We have tiny bodegas & tall-ass buildings; movie stars & masters of the universe; stupid-good food & the best drinks you’ll ever sip. Often, we have all those things on a single block. We have Central Park, Prospect Park, and Governors Island. There’s Flushing, K-town, and Arthur Ave. We have bagels. We have a subway system. We have the UN, the centralized hub of governance for the entire free world, and most of us could not care less.

In other words, New York City is the best. Being the best doesn’t come cheap, and enduring the occasional Alberta clipper is just one of the many tolls. Buy a warm jacket, pour yourself a whiskey, and stop whining about it. New York deserves better.

Love,

Dave.

P.S.: If you need something to complain about, we’ve always got the Knicks.

Dave Infante is a senior writer for Thrillist Food & Drink, and he wasn’t even born here, which makes this entire article invalid. Follow @dinfontay on Twitter, Instagram, and Snapchat if you dare.

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