It’s coming. Everyone says so.
Snow will inherit the earth, and chances are it has already covered the sacred hills of Lawrence.
I’m willing to bet that every student is extremely happy about the chances of classes being canceled at the University. The University forcing students to skip class is always more fun than skipping class because students are lazy. But one thing I know students don’t think about when classes are canceled is possibly the most crucial: Snow is the worst.
First and foremost, snow is dangerous. The University doesn’t cancel classes because Chancellor Leo Morton thinks students would really enjoy playing in the snow and having a grand ol’ time. No—classes get canceled because people could possibly die if they were to drive to and from campus on the icy roads, or if one of the buses lost control and rammed into walking students. Classes get canceled to save your life.
I understand why people are excited for classes being canceled, but replacing boring lectures with dangerous weather conditions seems to be hardly an enjoyable consolation.
I remember The Great Snowpocalypse of 2011. I was there. I survived. But I hated snow then, and I’m going to hate snow now.
Maybe it’s because, even though I’ve been in Kansas City for four years, I still haven’t gone sledding down Suicide Hill. Maybe it’s because during that great snowstorm of 2011, I still had to work on those supposedly glorious days that classes were canceled by the University. And on my way to work, my car got stuck in the snow and left me stranded.
Those are all real possibilities as to why my heart is still ice cold when tiny snowflakes fall from the sky. But it’s also possible that ever since the state deemed it legal for me to drive a car, I’ve understood that snow can be a real deterrent to everything that is good. Instead of being able to get to the places I want to be in a timely stress-free manner, I have to plan out a strategic plan of to safely travel. And sometimes snow keeps people locked up inside for several days, stopping them from being able to get the hot enjoyable soup on an ice-cold day.
But as I write this, I know none of those are the real reason I hate snow so much. The real reason is the aftermath. The elements left behind after snow surrenders to the changing of the season: sand and salt.
That nasty mixture of sand and salt is used unsuccessfully to try to stop snow and ice building up and allow cars to drive on the roads. Maybe the salt does help melt the ice—I’m not a scientist, so I won’t guess—but is it really worth it when there is such a nasty mixture left behind when the snow disappears? Probably not.
Once the snow is gone, I cringe when I walk on the sidewalks and see (and sometimes even feel through my shoes) the mixture. It’s disgusting. There really must be a better way to prepare for something so sinister. This method really does seem like it was created in the 1700s.
“General Washington, how should we get rid of the snow?” asked a loyal American soldier on Dec. 25, 1776, when George Washington led his army across a frozen Delaware River.
“Salt,” said the soon-to-be leader of the Free World, General George
America were to develop a much better way to prepare for icy conditions, I wouldn’t hate snow so much. Maybe if classes are canceled today, and I spend all my free time enjoying my life by sledding down Suicide Hill, I won’t hate snow so much.
But for now, I do. Screw you, snow.