Michigan was recently was named the second worst state for winter by the Thrillist. But it was their description of a Michigan winter that won me over.

The only state, according to the web site Thrillist, with a worse winter than michigan is Minnesota, and having been in Minneapolis in January, I will concur.

But hats off to writer Bison Messink (Bison? Not really a Dutch name, but, hey, to each his own) for this description of what it's like to suffer through a Michigan winter.

Winter in Michigan begins well before Thanksgiving and stretches far past Easter, which makes for four-to-six wearisome months of always-gray, always-cold, always-drizzly, but-rarely-snowy-in-a-good-way misery. Some other states may see colder temps or more snow, but Michigan winters are unrivaled for their utter lack of sunshine. The ceaseless cloud cover begins in October, and envelopes the state in a daily sense of gloom that only worsens when the apathetic sun slouches below the horizon at quarter-to-five.

For the Michigander, this is winter: you leave work at 5 or 6, already in the dead of night, and fight your way down 94 or 96 or 75 or whatever Godforsaken stretch of highway. You can't even tell if it is drizzling rain or snow, because the brown salt sludge that sprays up off the road coats your windshield more completely than anything that falls from the sky. Overnight, the road freezes. In the morning you wake up and it is still dark. You scrape off your car, then get stuck in traffic as the cars ahead of you gawk at the SUV that has slid into the ditch. You actually look forward to a proper snowfall, just to cover the dirt. Even then, you do not go skiing, because there are no hills.

You do not look forward to outdoor winter recreation because there is none. You might go bowling. You probably put on weight. If you are lucky you might have a snowmobile, but it's a pain in the ass to get out. More likely your asshole neighbor has one, and it is loud. In early April you convince yourself it is spring because it is Tigers Opening Day. You overpay for tickets to the game, tell yourself 45 degrees isn't that cold, and cheer when the sun peeks out at the end of the fourth inning. That is the light at the end of the tunnel. Winter in Michigan is a miserable, miserable time.

 

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