Fight the Power. Stay Informed.
As I walked I could feel a pull at my ankles. I wasn't sure if it was my brain trying to keep me from suffering through another painful Chemistry lecture, or if it was the foot and a half of literal slush that I was having to wade through. Every step became more and more sluggish. So I stopped and stood while my legs argued with my brain. This argument left me immobile in the middle of the parking lot, everybody's own personal Fire-Topped Caucasian statue. This dormancy allowed me to focus my attention on two young children about 4 or 5 years old. They were screaming and dancing and running around in the slush. I chuckled at this, because they had no clue that my legs and brain were at war. I watched them throw snowballs and tackle each other, all in good fun. Then suddenly they stopped, like a deer and driver that both know exactly what 4-letter word the other is thinking. Glancing over at an 8-foot high pile of snow, their minds were made up. As they proceeded to scale the wall of ice and snow, my legs started to win as my brain was preoccupied with their winter olympics. At the top of the mountain they stood like the Kings and Queens of fairytale lands. I almost expected them to claim the land with a fingerpainted flag, but instead one of the kids laid down on his back. I was compelled to find out what they had planned. As I approached the mound, the other child sat on the other's stomach, and with a swift shove off, slid down the ice mountain using his friend as a sled. They jumped up, embraced each other with a glow of joy that only a child can give, and began to scale the wall again. At the top they switched places, rider became sled and sled became rider. Up and down the hill. Over and over again, they slid down, never tiring of the high that comes from your body moving faster than your legs. Each time they traded places without question. By this time my legs had the obvious upper-hand and my brain was down for the 10-count. I chuckled again as I walked into the Chemistry lab that I affectionately deemed "Hell". The only words that my brain was allowed to say were, "Interesting Teamwork".