The Locker Room, Ball State University Village - It's 2 p.m. Wednesday and a collection of friends have gathered to celebrate the rare occurrence of a college snow day.
No, not everyone's drinking. It's midday in the Village; the minors are around, too.
Status messages from Twitter, Facebook and chats exemplify the communal excitement shared by those not only in Muncie, but across the state and Midwest.
"NO CLASS TODAY!"
"FREE DAY!!"
"CLASS IS CANCELED!"
"THANKS BALL STATE, IT'S LIKE YOU KNEW WHAT I WAS DOING LAST NIGHT."
"HELL YEAH! SNOW DAY!!!! :) :)"
It's a gift from the sky, literally and to some ? metaphorically. Is this really happening? As we transitioned into our collegiate lexicon, we exchanged "snow day" for things like "credit hours" and "bulletins." It's the "get out of jail free" card we thought we lost to the days of passing periods and lunch mods.
Sure, we should work, but why the hell would we do that? It's a snow day! It's a gift. We'd be foolish not to enjoy it, right? Today presents great opportunity.
A slippery drive through campus in a friend's SUV exposes the scenes we expect following a heavy blanket of winter weather.
"Wow the snow brings out all the hotties," another friend says as we crawl past a student pausing from the hell that is digging vehicles from plow drifts. Chuckles ensue. We turn the corner and the east end of campus comes into focus.
A handful of people wrestle in the snow-covered grass in front of Studebaker East. They may be lacking the snow pants from mom, but their North Face jackets and jeans appear to be serving them fine. They resemble the 20-something versions of the elementary school playmates.
Across New York Avenue a group stands in question of a fellow student's car. Deductive reasoning says they've backed the vehicle down an alley with drifts of a foot or more. The small car's back window remains covered as the driver discusses something with one of the people outside. They've come so far, but the final test remains. A wall of snow, courtesy of the main road plowing, serves as a barrier to the street.
It makes you wonder if it's worth driving at all. Clearly to some it's not: Four or five students walk southbound down New York to Riverside, avoiding non-shoveled sidewalks like quicksand.
My lunch allies and I have returned from the grocery, snacks in hands. We carry the bags to an apartment, jumping step-by-step into footprints left before us. The sacks of ice we carry seem ironic given the frozen tundra all around.
The day is only beginning. There's so much time and reason to be productive. But isn't it more fun not to be?
These are the stories we'll bank and the mental images we'll retain. While the tests, quizzes, lessons and lectures are what tie us together, they are furthest from our thoughts in these hours. Days like this are the unexpected memory-makers. The "little things" our parents preach to us, and we'll someday preach to our children.
Damn, that's scary.
Perhaps the university cancels classes tomorrow, too. It is anyone's guess and a precious few's responsibility. Morning could bring another relief, or another day of reluctant studies. It's the nearly forgotten game of "wait and see, hope and pray" we loved to play in our grade-school years. We can't control it, though, so we might as well enjoy it while it's here.
Soon the "real world" will devour our snow day, in lieu of things like "telecommuting" and "sent from my Blackberry." There are small triumphs here. There are rare opportunities like upper-level snow emergencies and sick days. But those cost us more than they benefit us.
The real crime of 9-to-5 life is not losing a snow day, but rather losing the memories a snow day creates. It's not about the ability to slack off, or take an extra long lunch. This is (sadly) routine in many office environments. The beauty of a snow day is that everyone else can ? and is ? too. There is a community striving for fun, seeking the most of the opportunity.
In fact, that community just sent me a text message. A few of them. Perhaps the Locker Room is getting interesting. Screw work. It's a snow day.
Hell yeah.
Write to Dave at heydave@bewilderedsociety.com
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