Bray Days: Snow Daze Part 1

Aside- This image was taken around three decades after the events of the story, as can be seen by the existence of the pointy building in the background occupying space that was the parking lot where I kept the first Crimson Thunder at the time.

The other valuable lesson I learned that first semester regarding attentiveness and study habits is going to be embedded into much longer and more chaotic stories about snow, because linear, easy to follow, narrative structure is not how my brain works..
 Growing up in suburban New Jersey, I was well acquainted with annual bouts of school cancelling magnitude winter storms. Heading north up the Hudson River only a couple of hours accentuated the effects of that season to higher levels. A while after leaving RPI, our department director’s son attended my former school. He mentioned that no matter how cold and blustery it was when he visited his boy, there was always some guy walking around outside wearing a parka and shorts.
 
“Oh yeah,” I’d answer, “That would have been me...often minus the parka.”
 
There were a couple reasons for this.
 
The first is, back in my pre-blood thinnner days, temperature insensitivity was my superpower.
 
The second was (likely due to the first) I’ve always been more comfortable in shorts. This was especially true when exposed to the turbo-boosted radiators in the dorms. I’ve also always been easily distracted with problem solving, which was my primary focus as an engineering student. Realizing I was going to be late for a class if I didn’t run out of the room at that moment was a large part of my college time management technique. I regularly didn’t notice I still had shorts on until I got strange looks from snow-covered classmates in the building I had just raced to.
 
This was especially true for the international and other far from home individuals who came from more tropical climates. One poor South Asian guy ran to the window of the E-Dorm lounge kitchen while he was cooking. He slammed it shut, and looked over at our merry band who had gathered around the television for the daily Tiny Toons episode. (I traveled in very high class circles in college.) Then, mid shivering, he blurted out, “It does not get much colder than this, does it?”
 
None of us had the heart to answer him on that mid-November afternoon.
 
A difference from the snows I was used to is that the Capital District would get hit harder and faster. We first learned of this one night in freshman year. The equations had aligned and there was a major test in Calculus I and II, plus Linear Algebra. That meant no matter the level of AP credit a student came in with, every single one of us freshman had a math exam the next day.
 
While we were all feverishly studying, the winter version of a flash flood occurred. It didn’t feel like it snowed more than a half hour, yet the entire campus was coated with several inches of powder. As if summoned by a higher force, piles of stressed out students staggered out of their dorms into the glistening white night, and initiated a massive, free for all, snowball fight.
 
Due to the ratio, most floors were all male. Also due to the ratio, we knew exactly which floors the women lived on within the first couple of days. There was no activity at Cary 2 next door, but some young ladies were calling out to the forming masses from Nason 3. The individual battles calmed down and the whole group migrated up the hill, following our instincts at various rates. I got there after it started. Therefore, I don’t know if there was a reason beyond general stupid maleness that snowballs were tossed at the window the summons was issued from, until it had a white frame extending about a yard around it.
 
I believe Hall Hall (yes, really) was where the ROTC candidates lived. Scott can confirm this. We originally met him when we were alerted to, “The guy with one suspender down who juggles over by Hall.” There were some calls for them to come out and meet the snowball challenge early on.
 
They finally emerged when the entire mass had congealed together for the window decorating party.
 
I’m not sure if what happened next was caused by rejuvenation of the cool night air, or the snapping of the stress from studying. The unruly mob at that point had swelled to what seemed like well over a hundred wandering nerds. (Given known dorm capacity, it may have been far greater.) As the night passed, more and more stress broken individuals were urged out of their rooms by the wintry chaos outside.
 
The ROTC guys, filled with self-confidence and training, dashed out of Hall Hall issuing loud challenges.
 
The entire horde of us turned as a single unit, and charged down the hill, yelling like lunatics and hurling snowballs.
 
It was a lot like the Old Hollywood version of an uncoordinated but massive indigenous persons’ assault on whoever the colonizers in the fort happened to be for that film…
Only whiter in very many ways.
 
The ROTC’s screeched in an extremely unmilitary fashion and dove back into Hall under a barrage of snowballs that could have stopped an advancing armored vehicle if it wasn't as sorely lacking as it was in precision and accuracy.
 
Our charge was spent, and our victory was achieved. (And many of us were out of breath from the longest run since “aerobics.”) We milled aimlessly in a massive confused mix, at the center of several dorms…
 
The aimless milling was halted by the arrival of the unluckiest Domino’s delivery person in the history of the Food Services Industry, walking up to one of the buildings.
 
I don’t know which one of our giant, overly mathed gathering yelled, “PIZZA GUY!!!!!”
Nevertheless, clearly he owes that poor kid an apology.
 
With the range greatly reduced, and our aim unimpeded by our own movement this time, the second massive barrage of the evening coated the entire entryway of the dorm in question. The unhappy Domino’s employee was reduced to playing "Captain America: The Home Game," by using his warmer box as a shield until whoever ordered the -now probably battle damaged- pie opened the door to accept his studying snack.
 
With the double expenditure of adrenaline, we all returned to our senses, splintered into our individual dorms and went back to studying.
 
Not immediately, however.
 
Some folks brought snow inside to attack the few who did not choose to participate.
 
Harish thought it would be funny (hey, more foreshadowing) to bring in a saucer sled filled with snow to nail someone with.
 
The someone he chose was Jesse. The place he unwisely chose to do this nailing was standing in his doorway, allowing him a direct line at our door.
 
He failed to take Jesse’s juggler like reflexes into account. As soon as he saw Harish, Jesse kicked the sled, forcing it up and over Harish’s head.
 
Aside- Now that I think about it, I believe it was Harish and Jim. I remember Jim's giant, construction boot covered foot impacting the sled. As usual for my life, the setup is lost in the confusion of the payoff, and I have no idea why they were right in Harish's doorway.
 
In a kinder universe, the snow would have gone to his side of the room and gotten Harish’s stuff wet.
 
We do not live in that type of universe.
 
It went to his roommate Atul’s side. Atul was not feeling well, and had gone to bed early to be well rested for the math test. To say he was unhappy to be awaked by a large, wet and heavy pile of snow suddenly joining him in his bed would be like saying the Wicked Witch of the East was unhappy with the arrival of Dorothy's house.
 
For the remainder of the evening, while the rest of us studied, we’d see:
The door opens.
Atul stomps out with one part of his bedding.
Atul shakes the snow off of one part of his bedding.
Atul stomps back in.
Repeat.
 
This likely explains Atul’s choice of sides in that Practical Joke War I’ve already hinted about.

Click to continue more snowy tales.

Click for Bray Index