There’s even a hashtag, #snoOMG, though some folks are recycling #snowpocalypse from… when was that? 2010? 2011? 2013? All of these. The National Weather Service warned the current storm would be “crippling and potentially historic” for New York City, whose Mayor alerted the citizens this “could be a storm the likes of which we have never seen before.” Airports, highways, subways and buses are all closing. The storm has even shut down the Knicks and Nets.
I am writing this on Monday night, when the snow in Washington, D.C. can be charitably described as a dusting, and a friend in uptown Manhattan reports “some snow fell this afternoon but it all melted.” Now, it’s early yet, the front is still on the move, and it’s not impossible that by the time it’s done this will be another Blizzard of 1888, leaving hundreds dead. More likely the snow will get in your way and prevent you getting to work, at least on time, or to the movies, and for some folks far from the reach of civilization and snowplows it will be dangerous and perhaps fatal. But let us not deceive ourselves. Preparedness is one thing, and luxuriation in shared shivers of low-level panic is another. Nothing wrong with the shivers, of course — isn’t it better to get all goosebumped about snow than about ISIS or Ebola? If it got you to check your flashlights and candles, so much the better. But — and forgive me if I’m assuming too much here — you have survived plenty in your life heretofore, and you will survive this. Let that one work on your nerves a bit.