The word wrath conjures images of mass destruction, anger and rage. In conjunction with the name Khan, it can also summon images of a well known movie. However, I am not referring to Star Trek, and there was very little rage or destruction following in the wake of Khan. Who, you may be wondering, is Khan? It is more a what, rather than who, as Khan was the name of a winter storm that came through the area on the 25th of January, making for a very short first week of classes.
Wait, hold the presses. Since when have winter storms been named? Either I have been living blissfully unaware of this trend, being entrenched in the deep south where winter storms aren’t really that common of an occurrence, other than just a little cold rain, or this is something new. At any rate, school was pushed back by two hours, which I discovered by walking to class. Surprised to find no one there, I went to McDonalds with my roommate. I was expecting dangerous roads, tons of black ice, skidding cars; general apocalyptic mayhem. Campus was deserted; the outlook must be bleak. Surely an entire campus could not be overreacting.
Instead, driving to McDonalds seemed like it would have on any other day. No one was skidding, no one was swerving, and it was sleeting slightly, but it didn’t seem that extreme. Still, I was hopeful that there was mayhem to come. I watched my temperature gauge, waiting for it to plunge. There must be some clouds of snow coming. After all, sleet means it’s going to snow right? If classes are going to be postponed, the people deserve some fluffy whiteness, or at least inordinate amounts of black ice. The more dangerous the better, because that ensures that no one (meaning professors) will be able to reach campus, and the students will be left to explore the newly created winter wonderland.
Two years ago a winter snowstorm dropped 6-8 inches of snow on the Toccoa Falls campus, and two years later, those snow days are still a conversation piece. Some snowboarded down Paradise mountain, some built effigies of other students on Earl Field, and it was a marvelous time of not having class. Since it was during winterim, it was a much-welcomed respite from the class which has been humorously nicknamed “wasted thought and torture.”
Upon arrival at McDonalds, we discovered that they were also preparing for the apocalypse, even cancelling free student breakfast. Surely this was a sign of the wrath to come. This must just be the calm before the storm.
Following the foray to the bleak “beyond,” there was an announcement that classes were cancelled for the entire day. You can imagine the elation and jubilant spirit that overtook the campus at that point. Word quickly spread that there would be no school. There was talk of productivity and homework, but very few people that I talked to actually planned to do homework. Most were just thankful for the day off, and looked forward with anticipation to the possibility that it might snow.
The prayers for snow continued to reach towards the heavens, but evidently were intercepted by sleet gremlins. Instead of snow, we had an entire day of cold and wet, decidedly devoid of any kind of fluffy whiteness. It is really baffling why Georgians freak out about cold weather, even if it’s not really that cold. At the slightest sign of ice, even if there isn’t really eggs bread and milk vanish from the shelves, and everyone sequesters themselves away. The answer to the “snowpocalypse” is clearly to hide in our houses and make French toast. If there is no snow, at least we’ve all got French toast. Sounds like a good snow day to me!