Annie Neugebauer

Originally posted on February 12, 2010 at 4:49 PM

We’ve had more than a foot of snow in the past two days. This is unheard of. It snows so little, so infrequently in Texas that my primary memory of snow is when we got some small, scattered flakes that didn’t stick when I was in fourth grade. It was such a big deal that all of the classrooms in every grade got to go out to recess right then, just because for some of us, it would be the only time we saw snow in person.

Granted, I live about 200 miles north of there now, though still in Texas, and snow isn’t quite as exciting here as it was back home. But for me, and the hub-a-bub, it still is.

And, apparently, it is for a few dozen college students from various small towns where snow remains the Loch Ness Monster of Texas. Everyone’s heard of snow days, but only a handful of veterans have experienced it. Thursday afternoon and Friday, UNT canceled classes and closed the entire university. Us kiddos went out to play.

Kyle and I stayed cuddled up inside until it got dark, amazed at the silence falling from the sky for hours on end. Eventually, though, restlessness set in and Kyle wanted to take his Forester out to test its four-wheel-drive and maneuvering capabilities. I knew he’d do this sooner or later, and I figured I’d rather be there when he cost us thousands of dollars in auto repairs than listen to the story later.

As Kyle pushed my worry-filled little heart to its limit around town, we ran into some really cool, really funny stuff. Exhibit A: The people who built the giant igloo outside Bruce Hall (a dorm on campus). It was really, really awesome. The entrance was tall enough to walk into standing up, and the top was even bigger. We drove by slowly, looking out our windows, and Kyle noticed that their roof was caving in. Bummer. We started to drive away, but then I told Kyle to back up.

I rolled down my window and said, “Hey, I don’t know if you guys know this, but if you light a candle in there for just a little while, the inside layer of snow will melt and then when it refreezes, it’ll make a shell so your roof won’t cave in again.” The guys just looked at me with these big, surprised eyes.

Then one of them laughed and said, “Have you done this before?”

“No, that’s what the Eskimos do.” (PC term is Inuit, but most people don’t know that, so I went with the traditional so they’d think I as slightly less crazy.)

“Wow, well… thanks.”

Tehe.

Exhibit B: Soon we came across people sledding on cardboard down this steep hill by one of the buildings across from the Rec. Kyle parked and we got out to go watch the ones closest to us. They were taking forever to build up their nerve, though, and the wind brought just a tiny snippet of the three boys down the way, “Okay, so once you’re airborne…”

Needless to say, they had built a snow ramp and were planning on doing a ridiculously hilarious/suicidal jump that would probably take them into the side of the building. We left for sanity’s sake.

On our way back, we encountered a couple mackin’ in the snow. Cute. We saw a whole family of snowmen outside someone’s house, each playing a different musical instrument. Also, some super drunk girls walking home from a bar that asked us our names and repeated them about twenty times before leaving us alone. We had a snowball fight and made a failed attempt at a snowman (I didn’t have gloves). Then we came inside and warmed up. 😉 (What? We’re married now!)

It was a fun night.