My First Snow Fall of the Year

West Lafayette, my home away from home, has seen snow before today, but today marks my first snow fall (note the emphasis on "fall") of the year.



I try to make it out of the house before 9:00 a.m. every morning so I can catch the trolley and get to school with enough time to compose myself before teaching a class of 20 freshmen. Today I emerged from my apartment (on time) only to find the trolley at the stop, already accepting the last of the students waiting in line for it. Actually, it was a bit beyond that: latecomers were sprinting across a nearby parking lot, trying to make it to the trolley before it pulled away from the dirty, snow-encrusted curb. I knew I would never make it; the trolley would be gone before I crossed the street, even if I ran. I'm a very poor runner, plus I dislike breaking a sweat before I teach, which would surely happen since I was bundled up in my winter armor and the six inches or so of snow on the ground ups the ante of physical exertion. No way was I running. The trolley would have to leave without me. I would wait the next ten minutes or so for the next one.


The trolley started to pull away, but paused before turning the corner. At first I wasn't sure why. No cars were coming from the opposite direction, and, afterall, this is some of the worst public transportation I've ever ridden... these drivers don't need a reason to stop in the middle of the street. I continued walking, getting closer and closer to the stop, noting that the trolley was still waiting on something. My lucky day! It was waiting on me! Despite my no-sweating policy, I picked up my pace, willing to hurry and show a little kindness in return. At one point, I had to leave the safety of the plowed road and move to the unshoveled sidewalk. Okay, no problem. I'm doing fine, even though I seem to have forgotten how awkward it is to trot through snow that soft and deep.

In the moments before I reached the trolley, I was mentally preparing a thank you speech for the driver, e.g. you're the best trolley driver ever, you've made my day, etc. I must have been concentrating too much on my speech and not enough on the most perilous task of the morning: launching myself from the sidewalk over the foot or so of no-man's-land (i.e. slushy, disgusting street), and landing triumphant on the first step. My upper body made the trip, but barely. I didn't quite manage to grasp the hand rail; instead, it was palms first on the slushy step (note to self: wash dirty gloves). My lower half stayed firmly planted in the six inches of snow on the sidewalk. The only part of me that moved from the waist down was my ankle when it twisted in a way it wasn't meant to. Owww. The trolley driver asked if I was okay. I was in too much pain to make the grateful speech I had prepared. All I could do was nod and limp the few steps to an available seat.


I've fallen in front of many people before, so embarrassment, or even pain, was not the issue here. What makes this first snow fall of the season so memorable is the same thing that made last year's so unforgettable: the absolute lack of acknowledgement from every single witness (excluding the trolley driver... although in retrospect, I'm not sure how kind it actually was of him to wait for me). When I fall, I try to do so with some modicum of cuteness and follow it up with humor, or at least a smile. These efforts have garnered me exactly nothing. No gasp from onlookers, no "are you okays," no shared glances saying "I've fallen too... it's awful, isn't it?" What's wrong with these people?! Where's their emotion?! Where's their humanity?! React, people, react! If I had grabbed my ankle and moaned, would you have at least raised an eyebrow in interest? I don't know, but I do believe their day will come... if not in the form of falling themselves, then at least as a nickname--courtesty of me--that they will wear through all of eternity (even if I'm the only one who knows about it).


Just ask Worm Head and Big Beak, witnesses to the Great Fall of 2008.