Texas is pretty huge, states-within-states huge. As they say, “Everything’s bigger in Texas,” and this applies to our ever-growing ignorance to the rest of the U.S. This is understandable, as we are the same size as New Hampshire, Maine, Massachusetts Vermont, Connecticut, Rhode Island, New York, Pennsylvania, North Carolina and Ohio combined. This being said, when it snows here, we seem to slip into our own southern ice age, to which the only cure is turbulent 60-degree weather spikes and more cowbell.
I believe when it snows in the South, every natural born Texan digresses into a Neanderthal state. Donning skiing bibs and waterproof boots, our cowboy camouflage style is completely crimped into an insulated mess. Imagine an Eskimo in the middle of an episode of the Howdy Doody Show. As for the road conditions, don’t even venture there. Anyone in a three state radius is unsafe. An eighth inch of snow on the roads translates into a black sheet of zero-traction terror with bottomless ditches bordering the one path to salvation. People all over the nation drive in snow and ice every year. It’s so easy a caveman could do it, but Texans promptly discredit theory.
I, for one, believed the recent snow and ice combo was brought on by the good grace of Jack Frost. I was unfortunately brought down by a paralyzing sickness (Egh, Egh, I’m sick – Read: Karen from Mean Girls) forced me to stay home the Monday before the ice storm. As I laid in bed Monday night, I kept thinking, “Well, this is karma. I’m going to have to go to school tomorrow in freezing temperatures because I used my sick day for today.” When I awoke to a winter wonderland circa 1964 stop motion Rudolph, I was ecstatic – but when we ended up with another three days off, I was convinced it was MISD giving me a pat on the back for a job well done by strategically missing Monday and receiving the whole week off.
All this whittles down to though is that Texans are irrevocably weenies about the weather, snow is fun, and we should instate a permanent mid-winter spring break into the school year. For everyone that wanted to come to school, you’re part of an entirely different breed of pupil, which I can’t believe has actually withheld the tedious cycle of high school. Hey, c’est la vie, more power to you and your need for education, but my illiterate buddies and I will be building snow couches to watch you from as you drive to school.
