Snow brings out the worst in me


Courtesy of Stefan Tambik

Me actually happy in the snow. Rare.

This winter, like almost every recent winter in Chicago, has been confusing.

I really don’t have any other words to describe our winters; they are simply confusing.  We have ups and downs in temperature — it’s negative 50 one day and positive 50 three days later.  One day we’re covered in snow and the next it looks like it’s spring outside.

Chicago weather is on something, and I’m not a scientist, but I believe that drug is climate change. This might sound ignorant, but if climate change means no snow, then I really couldn’t care less if my grandchildren have to face the apocalypse.

I hate the snow, and for the past few weeks we have had a ton of it.

Even when I was elementary-school aged, I did not like winter. I was eight and thought my life was so hard because it was cold.  I wish I could tell that eight-year-old boy to shut up because snow doesn’t really suck until you have your driver’s license.

It is no secret that I am a horrible driver.  I advertise it, and it is part of my brand — messy.

On the first day with my license, I got into an accident in a Whole Foods parking lot. I had thought the $10 bag of chips I bought would be the most expensive item I purchased that day, not the cost of the damage to my car for hitting a grocery-cart storage area.

The other day I was leaving school in the snow. I had done everything my mother (who I view as God) said to do.  But when I turned on to Norfolk, I spun.

And I kept spinning.

My car turned around literally three times. I thought that I was going to die leaving DGS. I imagined my mother not being crushed that her diva child had passed but being more upset at me for not following her directions.

About a month ago, there was another snow storm. I had just gotten back to DGS after a speech tournament.  My mother was supposed to drive me home, but she was at the school already working a concession stand for one of the 40 sports my two siblings play.

My mom told me to meet her and grab car keys. I was at the library entrance of DGS and thought it would be OK to walk through the first floor to get to the concession stand and my keys.

I made it through the D Hallway, then turned into the C. That’s when I became locked on the first floor C Hallway, in between the area where the field house is.

There was no way out — the door behind me had locked too.

I went to call my mom, and my phone had died. I banged on the doors, and some track girl from another school came to my rescue. But the door was locked, and she had done all she thought she could.

I began to cry.

My only way out was through the Field House, so I walked outside, bracing for the snow and cold.  I was so upset, the tears were freezing on my cheeks.

I left the field house and went into the snow, around the front of the school, all the way to the West Events entrance where my parents told me to meet them.

I got there after 30 minutes, and my dad said, “Jacob, you look horrible.” To that, I responded with some choice words and tears running down my face.

My mother did not say sorry and gave me the car keys. “You should have charged your phone,” she said.

I did not talk to her until the following Wednesday.

In the meantime, I sat in my car and cried because of the snow.  There I sat and thought about how little kids like this stuff. I then googled “How to move to Florida,” all before leaving the school.

I hated the snow that much — I was desperate.  Florida is maybe the grossest place in the world, and I wanted to move there because of the snow in my hair, the salt on my shoes and the frozen tears that had just begun to melt.

Snow brings out these emotions in me. Fear, anger and sadness all play through my mind — at heightened rates — during this time of year. Snow brings out the worst in me.