Walking in a winter wonderland
Amy Schill
Dazed and Amused
Well, we finally got some hardcore winter weather. The freshmen complaining about how cold weather in South Bend is just a myth have suffered, and suffered deservedly. But even as a junior, this Texas native has yet to get used to the weather here, even in a relatively mild winter (I make little distinction between 20 degrees and minus 20 degrees; either way, I'm not going outside). However, I have learned some truths about South Bend weather that I'd like to share.
The basic truth is of course that snow is terrible and should be outlawed. I cannot fathom why some people like snow. They gaze out the window with glee as the first significant snowfall of the year comes down, while I bitterly envision the scene of snow flying directly in my eye that will repeat itself over and over again for the next four months. They anxiously await the time when they can have a snowball fight, while I anxiously await spring break and escape.
I admit, snow is pretty. It's pretty when it's in a postcard that I am looking at during Christmas break in San Antonio, where it is 65 degrees. That's how I envisioned snow when I was a kid and never saw it. I thought only about the sight of snow and, as far as I was concerned, sight was the only sense that snow affected. When I saw snow fall for the first time here at Notre Dame, I was overjoyed.
That feeling lasted about a day. I quickly learned that snow was not only white but also cold, wet and terrible. But hey, it's still great as long as I bundle up and don't touch it, right? Not in the least.
Snow only looks beautiful right after it falls, which is when all those deceitful postcard pictures are taken. Soon afterwards, that snow mixes with dirt and mud, becoming the most disgusting thing to look at in the world. Ever.
My favorite winter activity is to take pictures of sludgy, black and gray mounds of icy grossness and send them to my friends and family with the title, "Winter Wonderland."
Living on a college campus gives me even more opportunities to express my bitterness through art. One Sunday morning, I found a beer can and one shoe embedded in the dirty snow. I took a picture and titled it, "Modern Despair in the Winter Wonderland." The dirty, disgusting snow causes students to lose hope — and shoes.
There is something worse than snow, however, and that's ice (I basically have issues with all forms of frozen water, excluding snow cones). I make a fool of myself almost every winter day by slipping and falling, or nearly falling, on ice. At this point, I would rather fall than stay up, because staying on my feet requires a 10-minute episode of arm-flailing and general ridiculousness. Though the French judge gave me a 6.0 for my last slip, most of the time I'm more laughable than an organization that excludes women trying to seriously express its opinion on female sexuality.
I slip on ice because the University fails to clear all of it out. Now let me state that I know workers here work very hard and at all sorts of crazy hours to keep the sidewalks clear for us, but at some point you know that they say, "Ah screw it, let's watch the kiddies fall."
They choose to neglect the lesser seen pathways, like the one Pasquerilla East women and Knott men take to North Dining Hall. Around mid-March, residents of these dorms who take that path are not eligible for health insurance because the risk of icy death is just too great. And even if we do make it to the dining hall alive, we still have to face the horrors of flank steak.
But whether steak, snow or ice plagues you this winter, stay strong and don't let anyone convince you that winter in South Bend is anything less than the personification of miserable. Plus, look at the bright side, maybe we'll get some snow days that aren't during finals week this year. Oh wait, for that to happen, a place even hotter than Texas would have to get snow.
Amy Schill is a junior English major. She can be reached at schill.2@nd.edu.
The views expressed in this column are those of the author and not necessarily those of The Observer.
All Viewpoint Stories for Monday, March 4, 2002
