Winter can be a scary time, with brisk winds and plummeting temperatures causing damage to cars, houses, and roads, and, most importantly—the ego of a university student.
With winter break over, and the temperature continuing to drop, campus is filled with the sounds of boots scraping against the concrete sidewalks—along with it, the fear of taking a tumble.
The weight of winter boots, the bitter cold of the outdoors, and the dread of properly lifting your feet when you walk, is a familiar experience at this time of year. Those who drag their feet are almost always g up for a disaster. Students shuffling to class, combined with the bleak Kingston winter, creates a risk we all accept when leaving the comfort of our houses and dorms: the winter tumble.
Every year, it happens to the best and brightest of us. Whether it’s students in massive puffer jackets, those who walk outside with shorts on, or even prestigious professors, no one is safe from the shame of the dreaded winter fall.
Picture this: you’re happily walking to your favourite class with a chai latte from Mitchell Starbucks —yes you waited half an hour, but it was worth it. You walk confidently, watching your step, until a friend es by. You wave, take your attention off the ground, and suddenly your stomach drops. Panic sets in as you lose balance, and your drink drops to the ground. You have two choices: flail your arms like a maniac, hoping to save yourself, or speedwalk away pretending it never happened.
In a split second, you manage to save yourself, feet planted firmly. The only casualty is your drink—a small price to pay for your dignity.
It can be hard to know how to react when others are the victims of this near-universal plight.
You can either awkwardly ignore the person and act like nothing happened or help them up and ask if they’re okay. The worst response is probably to laugh at the person, or karma might have you slipping next.
Most of the time the nicest thing to do is to pretend nothing happened.
The majority of winter tumbles on campus aren’t that big of a deal. People get so caught up in their own heads—thinking about their assignments, exciting weekend plans, or even what they’re planning on eating for lunch. Watching where you’re going seems way less important than the midterm you haven’t studied for.
To those who see you fall, it’s almost never very memorable—they’ll have forgotten all about it by the time they’ve found a seat in Stauffer or waited in the infinite Cogro line.
Growing up in Canada and moving to Kingston, I’ve lost count of the winter slips I’ve taken. For the most part I like it when people don’t say anything, excluding the occasional “are you okay?” from my friends.
However, there are definitely some important exceptions to the “ignore” rule. If you notice someone is hurt, it’s a good idea to lend a hand.
From my observations in Kingston, I’ve noticed most victims of the infamous winter falls are absent-minded students trying to stay warm as they scurry to their lectures. They fall, they get up, they look around to make sure no one saw, and they rush to class like nothing happened.
Just like that, the blunder is forgotten—of course, until the next one.
Avoid a bruised ego (and rear) and look where you’re going, trust me.
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