When I was a kid, I used to love when it snowed. I loved to watch the snow fall from the sky and then look out on my deck and see how tall it had piled up. I loved to build grotesque snow people with my brother. And I also loved watching my father scream obscenities at the snow blower for 45 minutes straight, and finally force my brother and I to help him shovel out our 86’ Chevy. Dad used to use words I’d never heard before and I haven’t heard since. For example, I’m still trying to figure out what a “fligging kroll” is. But most of all, I loved snow because it got me out of school. I’ll be honest: I’d love a sinister alien invasion or a plague of tiny venomous beetles infesting my spleen if it got me out of school.
However, once I started college, all of that changed. Snow became yet another reason for me to submerge myself in my bathtub and breathe through a straw all day instead of going to school. This is because every time it snows, I have to drive to school in it. I could skip class, but the last time I did that, my instructor explained the meaning of life and it was on the test. So every time it snows, I wake up six hours early, put on my boots, and drive a blazing four miles an hour to school. Sometimes, Dad runs along beside my car, and laughs at me when he passes it. I think that’s God’s way of punishing me for all of the times I sprayed Cheez Whiz in my brother’s shoes when I was a kid.
So, when I woke up one February morning to my Mother’s cries of “Holy Aardvarks! There’s enough snow out there to sink a fleet of nuclear rowboats!” I was none too happy. I sat up in my bed, my eyes instantly bloodshot at the prospect of driving to school in the snow yet again. Looking out my window nearly made my heart explode. For miles – as far as I could see – there was a 38 foot coating of snow on everything. The streetlights were doing their best to shine through the pounding flakes. My trampoline looked pregnant under the weight of the snow on its surface. All the cars had snow afros. As I stared across the landscape in the raging blizzard, I shed a single tear that quickly turned to ice and stuck about half way down my face. “
I think this is God’s way of punishing me for all the times I glued my brother’s deodorant to his desk when I was in high school,” I muttered.
But then, ladies and gentlemen, something magical happened. My mother heard my wails of snow-induced agony, and burst into my room yelling, “The college is closed! No school today! Merry Christmas, Charlie Brown!”
After that, I kind of just stared at her until it hit me. The registrar had finally closed the college before 11 p.m. Apparently, weather will impact classes today. That meant that I wouldn’t have to dig out my car from a ridiculously huge snow pile! I wouldn’t have to drive to school at sloth speed, praying to every deity I knew!
I didn’t even have to shave.
My first instinct was to use this precious free time to study for an upcoming Bio test. So, of course, the first thing I did was go back to sleep. About 15 minutes later, I heard a knock at my door. Upon opening it, I saw my father before me, covered with about six inches of snow. “What part of my door being closed and no sound coming out of my room made you think I was awake?” I asked, rubbing my eyes.
My father just stared at me with his bloodshot eyes, mumbled something incomprehensible about the snow blower, and handed me a shovel. Oh well, so I had to help dig him out. I still had the whole day to study for Bio. And by study for Bio, I mean play Silent Hill on my Playstation.
The next morning, I was ready bright and early to go dig my car out. Shovel in hand, I began to step out of the house, until my mother stopped me. “The college is closed… again!” she exclaimed, grabbing my arm and jumping up and down. At this point, the registrar had performed two miracles in a row, making him a possible candidate for sainthood. Throwing down my shovel, I marched straight back to my room and turned on my TV. I was so happy, I watched Captain Planet. (He’s my hero.)
On Wednesday morning, I knew I wasn’t about to get a third snow day in a row. After all, lightning barely ever strikes once, let alone twice. And three times is right out of the question. So, I got up, put on my clothing, and decided not to shave. By now, my face was rather overgrown, but no matter; I’m lazy. As I walked out to my car, my heart sank so low I could feel it in my kneecaps.
In all the excitement of the snow days, I had forgotten to dig my car out. All I could see was a giant pile of snow and the driver’s side rearview mirror peeking out from the side. As I proceeded to remove the approximately 20 foot tall snow drift that had engulfed my vehicle with a shovel the size of a postage stamp, I looked up at the sky shaking my fist and screamed, “You fligging kroll!”
I didn’t know what I was saying, but I understood it.