Every year, I lose a little faith in our generation with the first snowfall. A majority of people understand that when there is snow, you dress a little warmer, pull out that snow jacket that you knew youâ€™d inevitably have to use, and trudge your way to school.
Our mothers and fathers taught us this when we were young. Itâ€™s cold, so put on a jacket, boots, gloves and whatever else you may have to counter the cold and falling snow. But every year, and not to be sexist, itâ€™s just there is always that one girl I see on the way to school, looking sexy (or so she believes), frigid and stupid.
If youâ€™re going to wear a skirt and fishnets to school while itâ€™s below 30 degrees and snow is pelting your face, Iâ€™m not only questioning your sanity, but also your intellect in the few seconds we walk by each other. I have every right to question those things without knowing you. If youâ€™re so starved for attention that your well being and dignity are pushed aside to try to make a statement or show off your legs, a Hunt Club (strip club) may be hiring.
It may not bother me so much if it didnâ€™t snow every year in Fort Collins. Even if you came from a warmer climate where snow is just some elusive and mythological instance youâ€™ve never experienced, everyone talks about the first snow before it hits. Everyone talks about snow, even where there isnâ€™t snow.
I lived in Georgia for five years, so I understand how dumbstruck people can be when snow falls if theyâ€™ve never seen it before. They quickly discover through trial and error that their limited slip, rear-wheel-drive Mustang is not accustomed to or safe in the sleet-like snow that turns the road to ice and causes their tires to spin continuously without moving anywhere.
Stores and schools close down, and the churches become filled to the brim with rigorous believers who think they have done something wrong to cause this ungodly phenomena.
But the same thing happens here every year, and these dumbstruck students look up at the sky, fearful that the snow is carrying one of the signs of the apocalypse.
This is not the world ending or the earth turning into hell, Iâ€™m fairly sure. After all, hell is hot year-round last I heard, and itâ€™s cold here. By that logic, we should be more worried of the upcoming summer of record-breaking temperatures — if youâ€™re really looking for signs of the worldâ€™s end.
Leave it to our president, Tony Frank, to let us know that everything is just fine — and even though you feel like death is coming from above as you nearly dodge a branch flying down, he did say to watch out for trees in his email.
The only problem I found in this email is this: as I walked toward campus, there wasnâ€™t a place to walk where a tree was not located. So while I applaud his warning and his quick and simple safety tip, â€œavoid trees,â€ I did not find it so easy.
The two options I saw were to go under the trees and stay on the sidewalk (where I was taught as a child was the safest place to walk) or walk in the street alongside the cars, in the hopes that everyone has learned how to drive in the snow better than they knew how to last year.
If you still are under the impression that there are more devious and cynical motives because of the change in weather, you are the reason I lose faith in our generation every year.
On the other hand, you hardly find anyone who is optimistic about change nowadays.
Whether itâ€™s the upcoming election or the a new flavor of Coke, weâ€™re often detestable of the changes of our society, let alone the temporary changes in climate.
What that says about us as a generation is that weâ€™re really getting too used to nothing changing, and when change does occur, weâ€™re not as acclimated to it as we were as kids.
Had it not been for the girl in fishnets and a mini skirt and the other few I saw like her, I may still have had a firm belief that, given the right situation, people do the right thing.
Adam Suriel-Gestwicki is a junior English major. His column appears every other Friday in the Collegian. He can be reached at email@example.com.