Being from Los Angeles, I often find myself moaning during the Dartmouth winter, "Why didn't I go to UCLA?" It is not so much the cold I mind. No, when I think of UCLA, I am longing for a campus with beautiful, dry sidewalks.
In regards to Dartmouth winter sidewalk conditions, I have observed three basic phases: snow, ice, and slush. First, it snows and it is actually kind of fun to trudge through the fluff. But then, we get ice, and as far as I am concerned, ice is all a part of Mother Nature's plot to kill me. I am yet to fall this season, but I know that somewhere out there, there is an icy staircase with my name on it. And finally, just when I have mastered the ice, the sun puts in an appearance and the sidewalks become a mire of puddles and blackened snow residue.
Now, it might seem sort of petty to complain about the state of affairs of our sidewalks in a column. I should be considering the state of affairs of, oh, our nation's conscience, right? Well, petty as I may be, I cannot concern myself with such areas of noble thought when at every step I take, I am in peril of skidding out of control. When Nike invents sneakers with four wheel drive, then I'll raise my thoughts from sidewalkian matters.
In the meantime, however, I focus a lot of my energy on keeping myself vertical while walking about the wasteland that is this campus. And energy is not an unlimited resource. If humans were creatures of unlimited energy, then I'd be the first to run a marathon before breakfast, then attend four or five classes, do some independent research in the stacks, run another marathon, and then drop off to sleep for a couple of hours before waking up for my weekly sprint across New Hampshire. This is not the state of affairs. For me at least, the Dartmouth day is not one steady flow of output but rather a cycle of exertion and procrastination. Perhaps procrastination is the wonderful thing that it is because it requires so little of our energy.
At first, though, I was resolved to live with the ice for I reasoned that it's just one of those unavoidable phenomenons. Some precipitation is bound to freeze, so what am I going to do? Take my classes by correspondence? (This is actually an intriguing option which should be explored at a later date.)
My roommate, however, ruined this blind acceptance of mine when she informed me that there is a special kind of salt which can be sprinkled on the sidewalk to melt the ice. Dartmouth just does not indulge in this practice. No worries. While walking back to my dorm during Monday's deluge, a plan occurred to me. Unfortunately, this plan involves me abandoning my studies and acquiring magical powers, but I'm sure these details can be overcome.
I am going to become Dartmouth's Salt Fairy. I always wanted to be a superhero of sorts when I grow up, and at last, I have heard my calling. I'll dye my hair blue, wear a green velvet cape, and frolic about the campus, sprinkling special salt on every patch of ice.
At first, I thought I could just push about a keg on wheels filled with this salt, but a keg of salt would just be an awkward thing to bring around with me. First, I have no upper body strength so I'd tire of pushing the salt keg after a couple of blocks. And I can only imagine the problems that would arise if Safety and Security saw me with my salt keg. "Ma'am, would you mind telling us what you are doing with that keg?" they would ask. And I would reply, "Oh, officer, this is just my keg of special salt. I'm the Salt Fairy!" Consequences would have to follow this exchange.
I would have to substitute a more subtle "magical purse" for my blatantly obvious salt keg. You know, one of those purses that looks really tiny but in reality, it can hold anything. Of course, there seems to be a shortage of magical purses on the market today. Mary Poppins seems to have claimed the last of these handy contraptions with that freaky handbag of hers.
So I shall instead have to content myself with finding a particularly icy slope and sit alongside it in a beach chair all day. For example, I could offer my arm to anyone who needs assistance in scaling the terrain between the Fayers and Rip-Wood-Smith. Yes, that's what I'd do on those days that I'm feeling selfless and charitable. And for those inevitable narcissistic days, I wouldn't have to alter my plan too much. Then, I could still sit in the beach chair, but when people needed assistance, I'd just sit there and laugh. This might not be the best approach to getting a degree, but at least I'd stop complaining and actually do something about those winter sidewalks.