Once the basics are covered, and one’s face is set against the storm, there is nothing like a good weather event to excite bipartisan unity. For a British person in the US, the advent of the polar vortex this week has been an embarrassment of riches the like of which we haven’t seen since first encountering the term “thundersnow”. It was -18C with wind-chill in New York this week – and, in a household in which my children persistently refuse to put on their coats, the weather finally won: on the school run we all went the full Shackleton.

Polar vortex: eight dead as Arctic air spreads across midwest Read more

I’m aware you have to squint slightly to make this experience a fully detribalised issue. The crashing temperatures, including a contender for the lowest ever on record in Chicago, are linked to Arctic air being pushed south by disruptions to the jet stream that experts say is caused by global warming. And enjoying both the frisson of cold air and repeated opportunity to use the word “vortex” relies on the luxury of minimal exposure.

Overlooking that, however, most of the people I encountered this week threw themselves into the warm bath of long and lavish discussions about the cold and advances in winter jacket technology. This is a novelty for most New Yorkers, who in an inversion of broad national tendencies, are inclined to regard complaining about the weather – they will complain about everything else, particularly if there is a customer service angle – as below par. This excites them, every winter, to extravagant acts of public masochism, such as jogging or dog-walking in seven-foot snowdrifts, or pretending high winds aren’t happening.

The polar vortex is different. It causes pain so sharp and surprising that in a populace that prides itself on immunity to extremes, people found themselves catching one another’s eye in the street and bursting out laughing. For a day or two, customary greetings were shelved for the openers “Jesus Christ” and “This is ridiculous!”. For centuries, British people have intuitively understood the herd benefits of content-free weather-chat, and how wonderful to see Americans finally getting on board. The shock and pain of stepping outside felt like plunging one’s face into a bucket of water and I could go on in this vein at some length.

Play Video 1:12 Polar vortex: -46C temperatures as Chicago River turns to ice – video report

Individual acts of lunacy brought people together. At a restaurant on Wednesday night, a woman at a neighbouring table who was clearly on a first date shook off her coat to reveal a spaghetti-strap, negligee-type top that drew the eyes of a room in which everyone else was dressed in androgynous survival gear, and triggered rapid calculations about what future weather extremes may do to gender norms.

These may be the last days in which we can eke trivial enjoyment out of the planet’s desperate fight for survival. Although I wouldn’t bet on it. If there is a single consolation to be had from the terrible advent of climate change, it may be the soothing, liturgical effect of the words – murmured as much to oneself as to others – “Oh my God, it’s so cold.”

• Emma Brockes is a Guardian columnist