Growing up in the Caribbean, the concept of snow was totally alien to me, something you only saw on movies or Christmas cards. By the time I was born, in the late sixties, Doña Fela's stunt of bringing in a plane full of snow and dumping it on the Parque Muñoz Rivera for the kids was a distant memory. I sometimes wished I had been around for that.
In 1993, I moved to Madison, Wisconsin, and experienced first hand the White Christmas that I had been hearing about throughout my childhood. Nobody had ever mentioned to me that snow melts and refreezes, that it gets dirty, that it is so freaking cold.
I hated it with a passion.