On my flight last night to St. Louis where I’m attending a business conference, I read BYU Magazine (Summer 2008).
First of all, I have to say publicly how much I admire and LOVE reading anything authored by Elder Hafen (see A Disciple’s Journey, pg. 26). As a member of the BYU Young Ambassadors I traveled with him and his wife in Russia in 1992. I was so impressed with the two of them. What a great couple!
At any rate, the editors at the conclusion of the magazine call for people to submit funny BYU memories. It sparked an experience I had as a freshman that I thought I’d share (it’s not like there was a lot to do on the airplane). I’m also submitting my story to the magazine and if they like it they’ll pay me $50. Regardless of getting paid for sharing, I thought some of you might find this humorous. Perhaps you can ‘pay’ me back by commenting and sharing your own funny experiences, at college or elsewhere.
I left upstate New York to attend BYU in the fall of 1988. For me, cold, snow and ice were routine. What wasn’t routine was walking in it. I wasn’t used to being without an automobile, even if it was the family’s hand-me-down Volkswagen van.
Some days it was difficult getting from Deseret Towers to my 8 a.m. class just because I could think of 100 things I’d rather do first thing in the morning than have icecycles forming from my nostrils (I’m not exaggerating).
Once spring had arrived I was a happy camper. Provo’s seasons are all beautiful but the car-less part of me was particularly inclined to welcome the warmer weather.
However, with winter’s leftover snow piled on the sides of roads, the thaw made for some sloppy, soggy-sock weather.
One particularly beautiful and warm spring day I was making my way up Campus Drive from the now demolished KMB to the HFAC, oblivious to the water running alongside the sidewalk and half-way into the street.
Suddenly, I caught glimpse of a white minivan barreling down the road—at speeds that certainly exceeded the speed limit—and headed straight for the murky puddles of water just inches away from me.
There I was, minding my own business on the sidewalk when at once I was drenched from head to toe with dirty, cold street water; the result of runoff and warmer temperatures, and I do believe, a giddy college-age driver who knew darn well what their trajectory was going to do to my day’s outlook, or at least to my body temperature and clothing.
Needless to say, from that day on, as a pedestrian I paid close attention to puddles of water near the sidewalk and traffic, especially in the spring.