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Rob Jenkins - A Northerner's guide to Southern snow

I know all you Northern transplants had a good time recently making fun of the way we Southerners deal with snow. That's OK. We make fun of Northerners all the time for living in places where snow is a constant aggravation, not just a pleasant distraction.

Now that you've had the good sense to move south, however, you no doubt wish to become fully assimilated. So for your benefit, I've prepared the following primer on how to behave like a Southerner in the snow.

The first thing to remember is that, as soon as the slightest chance of frozen precipitation enters the forecast, there are two places you MUST go: the supermarket and the video store. If you don't hit both places as soon as possible, everyone will think you're an idiot - or worse, know you're a Northerner.

Once at the supermarket, you're required by unwritten Georgia law to buy as much bread and milk as you can fit in your shopping cart. I've never understood why bread and milk, in particular, are so indispensable during a snowstorm, but obviously they are. Why else would everybody be lining up to buy them?

Because you can be assured that, if anybody in Atlanta thinks there's the least possibility of snow, EVERYBODY will be at the store filling their carts with bread and milk. So get there early, and take something to occupy your time while you're in line, like maybe a copy of War and Peace, or your 2008 tax returns.

After your bread and milk are safely stowed in the trunk, you must then stop by your local video store and pick up, oh, say, about three dozen DVD's. I mean, you're liable to be snowed in for days, maybe even hours, and what better way to spend that time than enjoying a Will Ferrell marathon?

The last thing Northerners need to learn about snow, Southern-style, is how to drive in it. Sure, you think you already know how to drive in the snow, but you only know how to do it Northern-style, which is to say safely and rationally.

Southerners, on the other hand, when confronted with snow-covered highways, know only two speeds: normal (85-plus mph) and snail-like. So if you're creeping along on the interstate, in three inches of snow and ice, behind some grandma in a '91 Cadillac going about 15 mph, and some idiot in a Suburban zips by doing 90, you can be certain of one thing: both cars will have Georgia plates.

All of which assumes that the interstate will be open, which of course it won't be, just like everything else in town, including the supermarket and the video store. So you're going to have to get by somehow without your bread and your milk and your Will Ferrell videos.

And you thought winters in the North were harsh.