Dear Austin,
You have no clue. You seriously have no idea the GENIUS that is going on in other cities. I say this as a world traveller, as someone who has formerly lived in such cosmopolitan cities as Chicago, New York and Montreal.
You are clueless. And you’d better get up to speed, lest your reputation as a “world class” city be yanked unceremoniously from under your feet.
It’s February, which in the rest of the world means ICE, SNOW and HORRIBLE WINTER WEATHER. Yeah, sure, we hit a brutal 52 degrees today, and I lit a fire in my fireplace in joy. But my point is this: the rest of the world CELEBRATES their bad weather. Here, we view it as reason to hibernate.
This is an incorrect approach.
Take, for instance, the brilliant concept of Nuit Blanche. A European idea, the “White Night” is a day set aside where normal work hours are extended deep into the night, where museums and other cultural institutions are open 24 hours, allowing normal folks to turn their usual wake-sleep routines upside down and embrace artistic deviance for one day of the year.
Inspired by the 24-hour daylight suffered by our most northern counterparts (i.e. Russians, Norweigians, etc.), the “White Nights” are a chance to invert time, to celebrate oddity, to embrace artistic dalliances, to do things we wouldn’t normally do at the hours we usually cling to Morpheus in dreamland. In Montreal, all the museums are open, there are parties in the street (or in specially constructed domes), ice is sculpted into beautiful forms and slides to toboggan down, the winter Ferris wheel is turning, fireworks are blasting off, and hot (or alcoholic) beverages are kept flowing all night long.
It’s a chance to run wild and free. There’s fine dining, salsa dancing, jazz and blues music in the streets, art shows, circus freaks, and free activities galore. It’s a chance to break out of the workaday habit. It’s a chance to hang out with friends, and embrace the frigid night as only warm-blooded humans can.
Austin: You have no idea. You’ve never been beset with truly cold weather, so you don’t know what it means to celebrate in the midst of the cruellest month. February, the Ice Age. February, the heart-stopper.
You say you’re “weird,” but you have no concept of the truly bizarre. You should learn from your northern brethren, Austin. Where are your cold-month festivities? Where are your parties during this period of northern hibernation? Where are your creative, artistic sensibilities?
SXSW doesn’t count.
Get a fucking clue.
Sincerely,
Laura










