I should be writing a paper.

But instead I want to tell you about something remarkable.

It all started with burnt popcorn and a fire alarm. (Actually it started before that when I was accused of being racist, but we won't talk about that.)

All of the inhabitants of the building were outside. It's Thursday night, approximately midnight, the week before finals. Even in the beginning of the semester when not much was going on and people still had time to sleep, fire alarms were reason to complain and be grumpy little people. But tonight--tonight people didn't do that.

I mean, there was the usual, "I'm cold," or, "I should be studying," but, out there, in the midst of the several inches of snow already on the ground and the continuing downfall, people were reverting in the best of ways. Everywhere you looked, people were playing in the snow. Not the you-threw-a-snowball-at-me-and-got-my-hair-wet-so-I'm-going-to-shoot-you-the-evil-eye-and-then-get-you-back-when-you're-not-looking-and-if-you-even-retaliate-after-that-I'll-quit-talking-to-you-for-a-week kind of playing in the snow. Downright childish play.

It began when Jenny decided that we were allowed to throw snowballs at Erin and Bradley for burning popcorn and thus making us all go stand outside while the fire department (needlessly) inspected the burnt popcorn. (This was an excellent alternative to the punishment I proposed for those who caused fire alarms with burnt popcorn: stoning.) So we threw snowballs at them until it turned into an eight-person all-out brawl in the snow. People were tackled to the ground, snowballs were thrown, and snow was strategically shoved into coats to prevent any possible protection from the cold that might have existed from actually working. And as our fight escalated, others were running around, pelting snowballs at one another.

Later, after the vast majority of people had gone back inside, Jenny and I made snow angels in the courtyard. Really, people are at their best when they just let it all go and act like children for a little while.

And before you even think about, no one better throw a snowball at me at seven-thirty in the morning when I leave for work tomorrow. That would not be cool.