COLUMN: Time to Talk About Winter
Published: Wednesday, October 16, 2013
Updated: Wednesday, October 16, 2013 23:10
Forgive my effort at stereotypical fall humor when I say that this column is a warning to every BC girl still going on about her pumpkin spice latte and what she plans to dress up as for Halloween.
It is never too early to start talking about winter in Boston. Because it’s coming. One only needs to walk outside of Bapst at around midnight to realize that the chill is already there. For those naysayers out there who insist that this unseasonably warm week indicates that the warmer months are here to stay, a weird but entertaining group of comedians called the New York Neo-Futurists thinks otherwise.
Having spent most of the long weekend in New York City, I had the chance to see the group perform its “Too Much Light Makes the Baby Go Blind,” in which the actors attempt to perform 30 short plays in exactly 60 minutes. The audience demands which play will be performed next by shouting out a number from a “menu” of plays—which have both comedic and dramatic elements—received at the beginning of the show. There is a timer, and if the audience and the actors do not move fast enough—sorry, show’s over.
To go on further about the Neo-Futurists alone would detract from the purpose of this column, but the list of plays is always changing and the group is definitely worth a visit should one ever venture down to New York. One of the plays that they performed last Saturday, however, is of particular relevance.
It was called, “What Almost Happened in Boston, with Accents.”
Upon seeing the name of that play, my Metro section senses were tingling. I also, however, was not interested in hearing anyone talk about parking an automobile anywhere near Harvard University.
What I got instead was only nominally funnier—a skit in which two of the actors displayed disgruntled (and drunk) Bostonians in their underwear, berating passersby for their lack of “picture pants,” a joke that was lost on me.
I understood it to mean that the Bostonians would have liked to see more interesting designs on the pants of innocent passersby, and I suppose I did laugh at their escalating, heavily-accented shouts demanding that more people have their pants decorated with horses.
The funniest part of this skit for me, however, came at the very end.
One of the actors turned to the other: “You know winter’s comin’ soon.”
“Don’t remind me,” the other replied, taking a large swig of his beer.
There was something purely funny about that brief exchange—one that can be so commonly heard out on the street and even on our own campus. The writers of that skit, for an instant, captured how humorous an exchange it actually can be.
The desire to deny the onset of winter is a common one, and is definitely understandable for those that prefer the comfortable weather of summer and autumn.
I know that the first snowfall can be simultaneously wonderful and daunting for those who came to BC from warmer climates, and I know that I am probably forfeiting my northeastern credentials by not vocally despising the snow.
But I do not dread the winter—I would not have gone to school in Boston if I were the type of person who does.
Around the middle of September, there was an unusually chilly night. Perhaps because of the cold, I had a dream that I was in my bed at home. I reached up to my window in the dream and opened the curtains to find that my hometown was covered in snow—and more was falling. I woke up in my dorm in Walsh feeling relaxed, peaceful, and remarkably at home.
To those who would prefer to stave off the beginning of winter and would rather not be reminded of it, I apologize.
Perhaps this column is a selfish one, to provide myself with the happy reminder that winter is on the way.