Don’t worry, Los Angeles, it’s just rain

Dear Los Angeles,

Making fun of Southern Californians because of their adverseness to the cold and rain is a classic joke. But, then again, all jokes are supposedly founded in some form of truth.

As someone from Michigan, I find it rather hilarious when I walk outside in shorts and a sweatshirt as someone passing by me is bundled up as if they are about to walk into the depths of Narnia. Sometimes, I feel the judgment in their eyes as they shiver past. And I judge them right back.

Fifty-five degrees for me means a nice tepidness accompanied by an occasional brisk breeze. Although it may not be what I had asked for before moving to L.A. from actually cold Kalamazoo, it’s manageable. I grew up with polar vortexes and waiting many-a-day in sub-freezing temperatures for the school bus. I promise, L.A., you’ll survive, even if it drops below 60. 

In fact, where I come from, people wear shorts until it hits 15 degrees. Snow pants are never worn past the age of seven (it ruins your street cred). Gloves and mittens? Haven’t seen a practical pair worn by someone my age. Hats and beanies are more for fashion than warmth. We thrive off our own body heat in the Midwest.

In fact, in Grand Rapids, a lovely city just a 45-minute drive north of where I’m from, there was a total of five minutes of recorded sunlight from Jan. 1 to Jan. 5. If that happened in SoCal (I’d even venture to say any part of California), all Hades would break loose. As of Jan. 5, the last mostly sunny day in Grand Rapids was Dec. 4. Try that for size, L.A.

In terms of the ongoing precipitation, I would have to agree with most Angelenos that it isn’t at all enjoyable — especially living on a campus that seems to have been equipped for every natural disaster, but not for a few days of rain. The way the water collects in every dip in the concrete creates an almost comical landmine-esque series of steps to avoid. Not to mention the entire USC campus is out in the open (no covers, no awnings, not even trees with the potential to protect students from the downpour), forcing students to take unsolicited showers between every class. I can’t even imagine the spike in umbrella sales for surrounding stores and online sellers that must’ve taken place over the last few weeks.

However, it’s so sweet to see my SoCal-native friends’ faces light up at the feeling of a sprinkle (pre-torrential downpour, of course). They call it ‘rain,’ and I can’t help but condescendingly snicker. Rain? RAIN? My dearest L.A., 20 minutes of drizzle does not qualify as rain in any facet, in this world or the next. Real rain is when the lake you live on back home floods over your two-foot sea wall, comes across your backyard and floods your basement. 

And then floods it again. 

Real rain is when it takes two years to fix the damage caused by said downpour. Real rain is when you and your sister have to change rooms because they were overtaken by water. Real rain is still not having your original room back, four years later (my little sister may be more to blame for this than the climate). 

I do not mean to undermine your struggles or tribulations, L.A. I understand that there are places that have been destroyed beyond repair. I understand that there are homes and businesses that have suffered greatly at the hands of the shift in weather these past few weeks. But, from my point of view, there are a few set perspective shifts that may have to take place in order for you to fully grasp the concept of real weather.