Welcome back, friends, strangers, and readers of this article! So, in case you all haven’t noticed, it’s kind of cold outside.

-17°F wind chill. NEGATIVE SEVENTEEN DEGREES FAHRENHEIT WIND CHILL.

I know, I know, you barely feel the cold. You guys are all tough, Nemo-surviving champions of winter, and this winter has been relatively mild. (Champions of summer who disagree: see my first article and feel free to meet up with me for lunch some time to complain about our noses suffering frostbite and falling off as we walk from any dorm to Commons.) On January 26th and 27th of this year, however, Yale disagreed. Thus came the unexpected blessing of the Snow Day.

This was my first Snow Day. Ever. You mean to tell me it doesn’t snow in South Florida?!

I know, crazy stuff, right? I had only heard about snow days from my dad’s stories of his childhood in Chicago, Illinois. They sounded like the Holy Grail of all days off. Not only did you not have to drag your cold and miserable self to school that day, but with all your free time, you could have snowball fights and go sledding and build snowmen! (At Yale, we build igloos #casual. Shout-out to the crew who built that beauty on Old Campus. The Class of 2018 thanks you.)

Now, just as the Snowpocalypse did not live up to the grand expectations of practically the entire Northeast, neither did my first Snow Day. I mean, I loved having that one day of cancelled classes -- and we’d better cherish it; they are few and far between -- but the day itself was less than revolutionary. Here was my schedule:

7:00 AM — Involuntarily wakes up from a dream in which not only the Snowpocalypse did not happen, but the super storm actually took snow away with it! Falls back asleep.

8:30 AM — Involuntarily wakes up from a dream in which Snowpocalypse happened so intensely it put Nemo to shame. Falls back asleep.

9:30 AM — Involuntarily wakes up to alarm going off and decides it is time to look out the window and see just what this storm is all about. Gets up to look out window. Is thoroughly unimpressed. Crawls into bed and falls back asleep.

Essentially, this was me all day:

Okay, you may be thinking it was my fault that I didn’t take advantage of the day off. And you’re probably right. But the whole situation was so underwhelming and I had purchased so much food in preparation for being snowed-in for the rest of my natural life I was in no mood to celebrate the “Brave Little Blizzard that Couldn’t.”

Now, allow me to offer a comparison. As a proud Floridian, I have lived through many a natural disaster in the form of hurricanes. In my county, there is a rule that if winds pick up to over 45 mph, the school buses cannot run; therefore, school is cancelled. If you know anything about hurricanes, you know there is another good 30 mph speed increase before said storm even reaches Category One hurricane status, but we Floridians are wimpy. We’re guaranteed at least one hurricane day a year.

For a proper comparison, let's take an underwhelming hurricane to match the underwhelming snowstorm. Let’s use Hurricane Isaac in 2012. If I recall correctly, we had a day off from school. Here was my typical hurricane day schedule:

5:30 AM — Wakes up for school and walks into living room where parents have TV on. Newscasters say schools in Palm Beach County are closed for the day. (Palm Beach County prides itself on being last minute/screwing up at everything. Remember the 2000 election?) Crawls back into bed and falls back asleep.

9:00 AM — Wakes up to parents cooking eggs and bacon and French toast. (My parents work for the school district, so a day off from school means a day off of work for them!) Eats like a pig. Dresses to go outside with sister and see what damage was/is being done by the storm.

9:30 AM to whenever — Stays outside because the winds aren’t too bad and plays soccer with sister. Bikes with family around town. Goes to the beach to see the waves crash against the shore. Eats Chipotle for lunch. Plays with the dogs. Throws dogs tree limbs that fell off during the storm for them to fetch. Eats dinner on porch with family and watches winds tear through the trees some more. Crawls back into bed and falls asleep.

Needless to say, I had my Hurricane Day schedule down pat. After the three hurricanes in a row my third grade year, I knew exactly what activities to do and which places wouldn’t close and where to go on the beach to see the craziest waves. Even the most underwhelming storm was an experience.

Moral of the story: Yale needs to give us at least one more day of cancelled classes so that I may experience properly the splendor of the Snow Day. The end.

Up next — Who even knows? Any thoughts?