(In south Louisiana, snow is rare. This weekend we had a record-breaking snow storm. The town I work in is a ten-minute drive away, and crosses a large river that has only two bridges over it. The main highway “new” bridge was closed first, then an accident occurred on the second, “old” bridge. I call my boss as soon as I see my snow-covered car.)

Me: “Hey, I don’t think I’ll make it in. My car is covered, the new bridge is closed, and there’s a wreck on the old bridge, so it’s closed.”

Boss: “No, the bridges are both open. You will be here on time.” *click*

(The department of transportation lists both bridges as shut. About an hour before my shift, the old bridge opens as the accident clears. It remains open for eight minutes total before someone else wrecks.)

Boss: *text* “Bridge open. Get here now.”

Me: *calls him* “There was another wreck and the bridge closed. Department of transportation says it’ll stay closed until the ice melts.”

Boss: “Well, you’ll just have to get in line so when it opens you can get here.”

(I straight up told him no, because it was too dangerous to try and drive in an unknown weather condition. I went in the next day, and he made me stay four hours late and basically told me I was at fault. Yeah, it’s my fault it snowed. And, I work in a grocery store.)

Dad: “Hey, did you know it’s raining outside?”

Me: “Where else would it be raining, exactly?”

Due to not owning a car, I rely heavily on public buses to get me to my destination whenever I need to go somewhere. This means I am often caught having to stand at the stop for upwards of twenty minutes in the worst weather. Unfortunately for me, at the time of this story, I was having trouble with finances and did not own an umbrella, nor anything thicker than a hoodie. So, I was stuck in the pouring rain and soaked to the bone one cold spring day.

That was when a lady in a van pulled up at the bus stop and rolled down her passenger window. Expecting her to ask for directions, I stepped forward to answer her questions,only to find a travel umbrella pressed into my hands. She told me that she’d seen me as she was passing by going the other way, and had used the intersection further onward to turn around. She wanted to give me her spare umbrella, because she felt that no one should have to stand in the rain in such a thin hoodie without an umbrella.

I was already soaked to the bone, so it wasn’t too much use for me by that point, but she refused to let me give it back, and instead drove away, saying that she hoped I got dry soon.

I’ve never seen her again since that day, but I still have that umbrella. If you’re reading this, thank you for backtracking just to give someone already completely soaked the means to stay dry in the future!

My teacher for Intro to Bioscience Technologies has scheduled a field trip to Genentech for his two classes in December, which my class is very excited about. But on the week of the field trip, the teacher finds out there’s only space for 40 students. He decides to let the other class period go, and reschedules mine.

Fast forward two months. The field trip is finally happening. The morning of, I wake up and look outside to see several inches of snow and ice. School ends up being cancelled, and the field trip is again rescheduled.

A month later, it’s March, and the teacher looks up the weather forecast. The weather has been perfectly pleasant for months, so we’re not really worried, even though there’s a chance of snow on Friday.

Friday morning, I wake up and see… snow. Lots of it. I check the school website, and it’s not cancelled. I live in a rural area at a high elevation, so I often get snow when most students don’t, so I have to miss school… again… on the third rescheduling of the field trip I was looking forward to. The class goes without me.

I think the universe really didn’t want me to have that field trip.

When enough snow accumulates on the ground, there’s an unspoken rule for parking: don’t steal a shoveled space. Someone else did the hard work, and even went to the trouble of digging out a lawn chair, cone, or trash barrel to tell the world it’s saved. While some people are kind about giving up their spaces, this is only acceptable if you ask first.

After one particular snow storm when I was 16, my parents, my uncle, and I got out and shoveled. After spending roughly two hours digging out the cars and clearing the sidewalk and walkway, my uncle — who lived with us — and my mother were free to head to work. While my mother’s car was parked on a paved portion of our property, my uncle’s was parked on the street, because we only had two parking spaces and my dad had his own car. So, to protect the spot, I dug out our trash barrels and placed one into the spot as soon as my uncle pulled out.

With school cancelled and my dad retired, he and I went back inside to rest up before we had to go back out and tackle more snow. We only rested about an hour, but the snow was coming down pretty hard that day. When we got outside to check for ice, I saw our barrel perched atop a mountain of snow in our front yard. Already having a sneaking suspicion, I circled around the pile to confirm it: someone tossed our barrel out of the way and swiped the spot.

I know plenty of people who would slash tires, smash windshields, and find other ways to vandalize the car, and a few others who would be waiting around the car with a few friends. I took a more civilized approach. After tossing the barrel into my backyard, I began deconstructing the mountain in my front yard and used it to bury the spot again, car and all. I didn’t stop until the snow was as high as it was when the four of us found it that morning.

If this person wanted this spot so badly, then they could do the work for it.