The Midget Yeti

"See Ya!"

"Freedom!"

We slam through the exterior doors of the library; the security guard is right behind us. Before we reach the top of the stairs, and descend down to the path that will lead us home, we hear the deadbolt lock behind us.

I tighten my scarf, and pull my hat further down on my head. The air is freezing. I look up at the clock tower on one of the campus buildings and confirm the time; 10 pm. Time to party. We've just put in a good 6 hours or so at the library. Most of it confined to a cubicle; while information seeped into the recesses of my brain. It was now our time. In about 20 minutes or so we would be home; and from there, a quick shower and change before we meet up with everyone else at the bar.

"Walk faster!" Melissa yells at me. Her boots have more traction so she's able to manipulate the ice and snow with more confidence.

"Shut up!" I snipe back at her. I'm grabbing the icy railing and slowly creeping down the stairs of the library. She walks back over to me, extends her hand and helps me down the steps. "I swear to God, my grandmother moves faster than you," she laughs, "Come on! It's friggen freezing out here. I've been on campus all day long. Let's go home."

"Yeah, yeah" I nod. I start to quicken my pace once I reach the path. The night is frigid. I can see my breath, and my nostrils are already beginning to feel frozen.

"The quicker you walk, the warmer you'll feel" she coaxes as she storms full speed ahead through the dark campus. I march two or three steps behind her. It's a long walk home. We might be able to shave a few minutes off of it if we quicken our pace, but for the next 15 or 20 minutes -- we are merciless against the cold.

The snow crunches under our feet. The buildings get smaller and smaller as we head towards our house downtown. I look around. No one in sight. It seems we were the last ones at the library. Everyone else packed it in a long time ago.

I re-wrap my scarf around my head and cheeks in order to create some protection from the cold. From my winter burka I have a partial peripheral vision. My breath is heavy. I'm shorter than Melissa -- and it takes me twice as many steps to maintain her pace.

"Slow down!" I yell at her. My heart is racing. The bar, club, or rave -- whatever we decide to do tonight, can wait. I'm exhausted.

"You're pathetic!" she snorts back. She's not really mad, just cold. And it's true; I do tend to walk a bit slow. But does one really need to go into cardiac arrest when walking?

She pauses while I catch up to her. The night is young. The possibilities are endless. By now, a gaggle of girls should be convening at our place. We have the house closest to downtown and the bar district. It's a good launching point.

"Ahhhh!" I scream. The wind has just picked up and cut across my face. My burka is no match for the snap of winter's cold arm.

"The faster you walk," she taunts, "the quicker we'll get out of this."

She's right. The only refuge from this situation is to press forward, like Napoleon's army. No! Wait! Baaaaad reference -- they all died. To press forward, like Stalin's army? Anyhow, the Russian winter is a good metaphor for what we are up against right now. Two girls. Traipsing through the campus snow. On a mission to get to the bar.

We reach the end of campus. There's a long hill that descends down to the street level where we'll eventually turn right to head back home. There are very few footsteps on the hill. I can see the ice crusted on top of the pavement. It's a fresh layer cementing the snow and ice below it. Which means that unless you have metal spikes in the base of your shoe -- you are doomed.

"Shit!" Melissa says, and pulls out a cigarette. The stress of the situation has caused her to take a moment and re-strategize. I stand there -- petrified. I'm pretty sure the hill has us beat. The ice looks dangerous. The slope is too steep. There is no railing.

"Shit! Shit! Shit!" she says as she takes a drag from her cigarette and thinks.

"We're fucked, hey?" I say. I tend to state the obvious in precarious situations. I'm like that annoying second-rate character in a horror movie that says, "but if we go in there -- we'll all die!". Duh! Of course we're screwed. You don't have to be a genius to figure that out.

The problem is -- the only way out is to go down the hill. We could double-back two or three miles to the other side of campus -- and then walk all the way around to our house; but it's a three hour detour at best. And three hours in this cold is a definite death sentence.

We stand there for a moment and stare at the hill. In the distance I can see my old residence. Some memories from the year before begin to flutter into my mind -- but I shake them away. I can't really think of that right now. We are about to die!

"Here," she says, and passes me her cigarette. I take a drag to stay warm while she unfastens her book bag from her shoulders and throws it down the hill. We watch it slide all the way to the bottom, before loosing speed and stopping at the base of the hill, just before the street.

"Give me yours," she says. I take off my knapsack and she tosses it down the icy hill. I think I know where she might be going with this. We have no choice but to go down the hill. Walking it is impossible.

We will have to slide.

"Ready?" she says to me as she grabs her cigarette back, mounts on her bottom and lifts up both legs. I watch as she toboggans her way down. She spins around a few times but manages to land safely near the bags. Once she's stopped moving, she starfishes into the snow from exhilaration, and begins to howl. I can hear her laugh echoing off of all the buildings.

It's my turn. I'm a little scared -- but I know it can be done. And, besides -- should I hurt myself, I'll drink away the pain with some liquor when I get home.

"Come on!" she screams at me from the bottom as she begins to put her book bag back on. I mount my bottom on the top of the slope, just like she did -- and lift my legs. Gravity takes over. The ice burns my bum and lower back as I race down the hill. The buildings from the campus above disappear into the dark night sky as I approach the base of the hill. I turn around a few times before hitting a chunk of ice; the pain jets through my right thigh. Ow!

Before I know what happens I'm planted face first in the snow. I take a moment and recoup. I can hear Melissa's boots crunching towards me. Her sardonic laugh reverberates through the snow, while I lay there -- shocked and motionless. The cold finally reaches my face and I jolt upright. I look to Melissa who's bent over and crossing her legs, trying not to piss herself. I imagine that with all the clumps of snow sticking to my burka that I resemble some sort of midget Yeti. I'm sure for her, it's hilarious.

I stand up quickly and start to brush the snow and ice off of me. I ignore her. Laugh all you want, bitch I say quietly to myself. I think she can tell that I'm taking it all a bit too personally.

She grabs my knapsack and walks over to me. I stare her down for a moment. We make eye contact for a few seconds before I begin to snort and chuckle. Tears start to creep out of my eyes. I can't hold back the laughter. I limp over to her, and together we head home -- periodically bursting into laughter that is immediately swallowed by the cold night air.