Southerners Are Fearless. Until It Snows.
It’s tempting to blame Tidewater’s fear of snow on the legendary Circus Blizzard of 1980.
If you live here, you’ve heard the tale: The Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey Circus was in Norfolk on Sunday, March 2, 1980, when snow began to fall and the area experienced one of its worst snowstorms ever.
The only one involving elephants.
By the conclusion of the afternoon circus performance, a full-blown-bring-in-the-cows blizzard was underway with 60 mph winds and white-out conditions.
Police blocked the exits of Scope and told the 2,300 circusgoers they couldn’t leave. The roads were too treacherous.
The bold and stupid left anyway, but more than 1,000 spent the night in primitive conditions.
The smell of elephants, the roar of lions and the specter of angry clowns in ski jackets haunts Tidewater to this day, leaving locals paralyzed with fear at the mention of a “wintry mix.”
Take this week, for instance. Breathless meteorologists assured us as early as Monday that we were in for “one to three inches of snow” late in the week.
ONE TO THREE INCHES? Good gawd, that’s higher than the soles of our flip flops. A blizzard.
By Thursday morning, with a winter storm warning about to take effect, supermarket shelves were empty, events were canceled and we were huddled in our homes, fearfully watching the sky.
OK, slight exaggeration. But it is widely recognized that we are chronically unprepared for such an event.
Not only do the cities of Norfolk, Chesapeake and Virginia Beach seem to share a single snow plow but lots of folks don’t even own warm coats. Or gloves.
Snow shovels? Hah. Who needs those? On the rare occasions it snows, we improvise.
I’m not proud of this, but during a snowstorm many years ago, I raked my sidewalk. My neighbor, who was using a large chunk of cardboard to clear his, asked to borrow my garden implement when I was finished.
Plastic car scrapers are the perfect Christmas stocking stuffer, but you can never find them when your windows are icy. I’ve scraped my windshield with a spatula or a Coke can.
And I’ve seen people - not mentioning any names - outside in their pajamas with tiny kitchen salt shakers, seasoning the snow around their front doors.
Don’t even ask if we know how to drive in ice and snow. Of course we don’t. Besides, no one has ever been able to explain to a Southerner what it means to “turn into” a skid when you lose control of your car.
It wasn’t until my second pass through the Harris Teeter lot Thursday morning, in search of a parking spot , that I realized a double whammy was at work.
Not only was it Geezer Day at the grocery - 5% off for the over-60s - but snow was coming. It was chaos inside. Jazzies pinballed down the aisles. Baskets brimmed with toilet paper, eggs and milk. And a rack of shiny snow shovels suddenly appeared in the “seasonal” section, usually home to charcoal and sunscreen.
This being Virginia Beach, at least a third of the shoppers were in their weird winter uniforms: shorts and hoodies.
I’m putting this piece to bed shortly before midnight. Still haven’t seen the first flake of snow at the oceanfront. On TV, weather crews were fanning out across the region in a frantic search for patio furniture or cars with a dusting.
“It doesn’t seem to be sticking to the roads, but look how the snow is piling up on this telephone pole,” one reporter enthused, pointing to a narrow strip of snow on one side of a bare wooden pole.
Piling up? How about piling it on?
Shoot, we haven’t seen snow in these parts in a couple of years. Can’t blame the Doppler dudes for hyping the event.
But what to do with all this bread, eggs and milk?
French toast, anyone?
