Last year, the greater Buffalo area received nearly 104 inches of snow during the winter months—over two feet more than the city got during the 2005-2006 season. With another three (four if we’re lucky) months of snowfall to be expected in Western New York in 2009, it is always best to be prepared for the worst. You never know when a plow truck will collide into The Steer, dismantling the fireside bar and rendering your Jäger intake insurmountable for a week or two. Generation wants to remind you that there is more than a few ways to beat the winter-time blues, so heat up the hot chocolate and get ready to celebrate the snow.
Seasonal affective disorder (SAD) is no phony baloney medical mumbo-jumbo like ADD or AIDS; a lot of people get sad when there are only a few hours of sunlight each day. Pathophysiology studies are regularly conducted to discover more about the effect of bright light therapy and how prolonged exposure to darkness can greatly impact one’s mood.
If the thought of a four p.m. dusk upsets you, you’re not alone. It is estimated that up to half-a-million Americans suffer from winter-onset depression, which some researchers suggest is caused by a disturbance in the body’s internal clock, as interrupted by abbreviated sunlight. Melatonin, a sleep-related hormone linked to depression, is produced more during the long, cold nights of winter, which is yet another culprit involved in SAD. On top of the obvious increase in depression, weight loss, crying spells, irritability, and decreased sex drive are all common symptoms of SAD, and frankly, who wants to deal with an impaired libido with thigh-high season in full gear?
For those of you who aren’t from the area and are consequently scared of the snow, you sure as hell should be. Snow kills hundreds of people each year, with 40 Americans already biting the bullet this season even before Christmas. Winter-related fatalities are not very glamorous. Did you know that a common result of hypothermia, before stroke or death of course, is the onset of a condition called terminal burrowing? Once the body’s temperature drops below what is necessary to facilitate normal metabolism and body functions, the victim can slip into a stupor and hide in small, enclosed spaces, ranging from closets to caves. Scary, huh?
In any case, it might be worthwhile to avoid any interaction with the outside world for the remainder of the winter. A lot of people (hermits, necrophiliacs and the smelly, for example) make a whole lifestyle out of social aversion. When the going gets tough, and you can count on it (mid-March blizzards are to be expected, as are the freezing pipes and disconnected internet lines that come with it), the best thing to do might be to crawl into your own little world of bong tokes, Step by Step reruns and playing with your beloved kitty, Sir Meows-A-Lot. Face it; the world is a cruel and unfair place, so you might as well fabricate a new one for you and your cat that is free of disease, famine, and Clay Aiken. If you can time it just right, The Fresh Prince of Bel-Aire is actually on television 23 hours a day, which leaves but a mere 60 minutes to wallow in your depressive self-pity. Or sleep.
One year I fashioned a measuring device out of a few yard sticks, duct tape, and some twine. I used it to monitor the snow accumulation on my front lawn from the sanctuary of my bedroom windowsill with a pair of binoculars I had handy (every boy should have binoculars next to their window, this should not be considered unusual). Every time the snow level diminished by a centimeter, I danced a celebratory Macarena and kept my fingers crossed for the eventual end of winter. With each augmentation of precipitation, I dug a steak knife into my chest and created a new wound, which, in red, scabbed scar tissue, proclaimed “Allah, take me now” by around Groundhog’s Day. Surprisingly, blood loss was minimal, and I am not due for my next tetanus shot until sometime next decade.
For those a tad more adventurous, there is an array of icy activities that can carry you through when boredom and depression begin to corrode what is left of your drug-dissolved cerebrum. For the fancy lads (read: Long Island kids with money), there are a handful of ski resorts within a hour’s drive of downtown Buffalo. What better way to enjoy the snow then to chum it up with your boys while sipping lattes and hitting the slopes in your finest North Face? Exactly.
For those of us still driving 1994 Geo Metros that are incapable of handling the trek out to Ellicottville, here is a new past-time that is all the rage: Pick up a saucer-shaped sled from any Wal-Mart, a few yards of rope, and any sturdy, phallic object. Fashion the rope (if rope is not available, Ethernet cables work marvelously) into a noose, feed your prop into it (I recommend a table leg or…hell, yes, a table leg), and toss the other end under the trunk of your mom’s hatchback. Take to the lots of Governors D, find a nice open section with plenty of clearance, and see if you can crack 40 mph in the lot while your buddy rides his sled twenty feet behind you, griping the table leg for dear life. If you don’t end up in the E.R., you’ll have a good story to reminisce over while you wait for AAA to come change your blown-out tire. It’ll be worth it. For the rest of you who aren’t afraid of a little snow, plop right in, and get creative. Snow angels are out, and gargantuan icy replications of architecturally significant landmarks are so in. Pound some whiskey, and see which of your friends can create the most realistic rendition of one of the Great Pyramids using your frostbitten digits and your liquor laden mind. Here’s a hint: the brown muck that has been accumulating under your wheel well all season is ideal for recreating the Nile.
When your sick ride is buried under two feet of white mess, it is not necessarily the end of your already pathetic life of sandwich artistry at Subway. While it is not the best idea to leave your car stuck under ice for a few weeks, you can use the opportunity of being snowed in to explore Western New York in a different setting. Long walks are a bit more harsh on the skin when the wind chill dips below zero, but crack-heads and hobos tend to take solace in whatever shelter they can find, leaving sidewalks relatively free of vagrants and the trouble they just love to transpire. Bask in the illuminated shimmer of a city frozen over with glistening, white, hell. While some of the city isn’t quite as pleasant during the winter, the occasional evergreen decorated with a soft snowfall or the frozen shore of Lake Erie are sights best experienced first hand, even if the blood vessels in that very hand have constricted hours earlier and the numbness has begun spreading up your forearm. Oh, frostbite!
If you can handle making a jaunt out of the comfort of your cozy apartment, most of Buffalo is still open for business as usual, even during inclement weather. We aren’t all a bunch of softies, you know. The Metro Rail is heated a notch warmer than my pad, so sometimes it is worth the $1.75 just to ride downtown and back. Besides, you were going to smell like piss today anyway, right?
Once in the city, catch a sports game at HSBC Arena, a play in the theatre district, grab a drink at one of our local pubs, or if it is before five on a weekday, you can still pick up bootleg sneakers and Bob Marley tapestries at the only mall left within the city limits, Main Place, located just south of Court Street. You could always use your downtime to start up your own business from the sanctuary of your bedroom, but you’d be surprised how raked over the market for macaroni picture frames and explicit, homemade Shrinky Dinks is thanks to the internet. You can always invest in some home recording gear and become the next Bob Dylan, but as Cracker sang back in 1992, “What the world needs now is another folksinger / Like I need a hole in my head.”
To be honest with you, a little snowfall is the best thing that can happen to us college students. With midterms only a few weeks down the road, being trapped indoors for a few days might be a godsend given the amount of cramming necessary for slinking by art history with a B minus. When the hail hits your rooftop and your front door is blocked with seven feet of snow, use this time to hit the books and prove to your professor that the ten grand you inherited from Uncle Charlie is being well spent.
Arguably, you aren’t going to find a soul in this city to disagree with you when you debate the downright awfulness of Western New York winters, but face it; in only four months time you’ll be able to get by without the ear muffs and don little more than a thermal and jeans. If springtime can’t come soon enough for you, there is always the option of stocking up on aerosol cans and showing Al Gore who’s boss. Ozone, schmo-zone, right? Besides, it’s not like the ice caps are going to melt and ruin the illin’ welcome back party you have planned for next week, right? In the meantime, the only ones that have to worry about it are those adorable, tuxedo wearing, Fundy Bay-swimming penguins. And come on, they probably have it coming to them anyway, no?
In the meantime, bundle up your parka, tighten that scarf, and embrace the winter wonderland that Buffalo has become for the time being. The desire to off yourself will dissipate in no time. And that’s a promise.
