The Jonas Problem

As a Californian in heart, mind, and spirit, my cold-sensitive skin was not ready for the great blast of wind and dreary clouds that signaled the beginning of winter storm Jonas. It had been getting colder for a while before, yes, and the news channels were warning of snow for a long time, but I was in firm denial of it all until I was informed by East Coast friends that the white stuff on the ground was not cocaine left over from a RISD party, but snow.

I’m familiar with snow. The one in pictures, of course. And there were a few ill-fated ski trips in my past that I’ve been trying to forget about, because there’s only so many times in your life you can fall flat on your face until you start dying a bit inside. And sometimes there’s a bit of snow dusting the tops of the hills I live near. But I’ve never had to exactly deal with snow, in terms of the whole frozen-hair-wearing-fifty-layers-dirty-slush-everywhere shebang.

Which meant that winter storm Jonas came as a bit of a rude surprise, especially because I normally associate the name “Jonas” with Nick Jonas’s smolder and abs of steel rather than, you know, blistering cold. And it didn’t help at all that Rhode Island’s special brand of cold was about fifty degrees less than the temperature that had me wrapped up in blankets back on the other coast.

I’m sure that I’ll never hear the song “Jealous” again without concealing a shiver and several tears.

It is clear that I was not prepared. I’d burrowed into a denial so deep that I hadn’t even thought to pack gloves coming back from winter break.

Needless to say, my first face-plant on black ice brought me thundering back into reality, if nearly strangling myself with a heavy scarf didn’t do the trick first. It makes me wonder what sort of Spartan-ass training you East Coasters get to not break into wails at the sight of snow.

Until I can get onto that training regime, I’m stuck locking myself in my dorm room, waiting anxiously at my window for Jonas to get the hell out. After all, I think those few freezing days have shown that nothing makes a winter wonderland more wondrous than industrial-grade super-strong heating units.

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