Just when it appeared we would squeak by with a mild winter, we were abruptly run over by the Siberian Express. Snow and nose-hair-freezing temperatures, courtesy of our “friends” in Russia. Clearly Putin and his Siberian henchmen have fired the first salvo in what future generations will come to know as Cold War II.
At least this winter we have Vlad the Mad and his former KGB meteorologists to blame for our winter woes. In recent years we’ve suffered because of something called the Polar Vortex. Who could we blame for that, Santa Claus? Those cute Coca-Cola polar bears? The adorable baby seals? Puffins?
I believe the Siberian Express, not to be confused with the Polar Express or the Siberian husky, was sent our way in response to the economic sanctions placed on Russia as a result of its blatant land grab in Ukraine.
The snow and frigid temperatures are still awful, but it eases the pain a bit knowing that, by shoveling my sidewalk and carrying on with my life, I’m joining millions of other freezing, yet still patriotic, Americans in striking back at Putin.
While the last couple of weeks have been rough here in Indiana, surely the heroes of Cold War II to this point are the people of New England. I’ve heard it said that the city of Boston (is that city ever going to get a break?) has been hit by enough snow to fill the home of the evil New England Patriots, Gillette Stadium, to the rim 90 times.
That actually sounds like a good idea, especially if we make Patriots coach Bill Belichick and quarterback Tom Brady lie down on the 50-yard-line before we dump in the snow. I know, doing so would not bother the Russians one bit, but it would sure help Colts fans hang on until spring.
I’m no meteorologist, nor have I ever been in the KGB, so I can’t really tell the difference between the Siberian Express and the Polar Vortex. I suspect they are actually one and the same.
Maybe meteorologists figured out that we Americans were going to come after them armed with tire chains and snow shovels if we had to hear the term Polar Vortex even one more time. So they just backed it up from the North Pole a bit and, voilá, Siberian Express.
But no matter what they call it, it’s cold, it’s blustery, and it’s a pain in the galoshes. But take heart, Americans, only 20 more days until the first day of spring, when we can officially declare ourselves the winners of Cold War II.
It takes more than mountains of snow and subzero temperatures to defeat the good old U.S.A.
By the time spring arrives on March 20, we’ll all be just as sick of the term Siberian Express as we are of Polar Vortex. One wonders what creative name the National Weather Service will come with next winter. Arctic Airlines? Polar Droop? Siberian Sag? Or maybe they should give it a hurricane-like name, maybe Steve, Bertha … or Doug.
Whatever they call it, I know one thing. It would be a whole lot easier to put up with if all Americans were suffering, at least to some degree. I’m not advocating that we all be punished like New England, but it just doesn’t seem fair that the eastern half of the country is getting flattened by the runaway train from Siberia while the western half is comparatively warm and toasty.
There’s an old saying that goes, “If you don’t like the weather in Indiana, wait five minutes and it will change.”
We’re waiting. And we’ll continue to wait. And in a few months, when the sweat is running down our faces as we mow our lawns, we’ll look back on February and think, “Siberian Express? Hah! Is that all you got, Mr. Putin?”