Ode to the Weather

14 October 2011Anna B

A hallmark of the October atmosphere can be heard in line for dinner in Crooks Hall, between people who don’t really know each other as they sit in the plastic chairs in the Health Center waiting room, between teacher and student before the bell rings and the rest of the class files in. Yes: the universal conversation starter, the buffer against awkward silences, the faithful savior of the ritual of small talk – the weather.

With the end of August, the end of September and the slow drudge into the ides of October, one thing is sure to accompany us as the year regresses farther and farther away from the summer months, and that one thing is the change in weather.

People begin to resign themselves to the fact that Gillespie Field is no longer as ideal a place to relax as the inside of a common room, accept the daily habit of checking to see if a raincoat is a required addition to the school uniform, and understand that the walk uptown will soon turn into a sodden battle against the elements.

Those new to the West/Wet Coast re-examine the surroundings they have unknowingly subjected themselves to, lulled into a false pretense by the pleasant sun of summer. They grudgingly go out and buy rain boots, get used to walking to class feeling the drops of not-quite rain, not-quite mist, periodically smack onto their shoulders. The damp and the wet pervade; life moves indoors.

Fortunately, a few individuals exist who actually enjoy the persistent rain, don’t mind the constant damp and have seemed to develop rain-repellent, water proof skin from their time spent in this temperate rain forest. Unfortunately however, these people find their invitations to share a walk in the rain anywhere politely (or vehemently) declined.

There are also those who find every slight shift in climate indicative of some self-wrought, disastrous end. “How about the weather we’re having?” is one of the more popular phrases uttered by these archetypes, in whose world rain one day and weak sun the next means Global Warming is striking with a vengeance. Regardless of the validity of their claims, these people never seem to find themselves in the awkward position of having nothing to talk about in a social situation. Common ground can always be found through discussing the rising sea levels the two extra millimeters of rain have no doubt caused – that or conversation lulls are filled with reenacting scenes from the movie 2012.

In rare cases we have the classic ombrophobe – the one student in the house who actually owns an umbrella and uses it religiously, the individual who will resort to the backpack-over-the-head method whenever the heavens open unexpectedly in a gush of damp. These people lament at the small fluctuations in the weather which hint at showers – indeed, they’re actually the only people who check the forecast. To an umbrella-wielding, rain coat wearer, the suggestion of dancing, playing or even walking in the rain is absurd, terrifying even. These individuals are the ones that contribute to the weather conversations with expletives and yearnful longing for the two and a half months of semi-solid sunshine British Columbia experiences each year.

Whatever your reaction to the onslaught of the weather – whether you’re indifferent, and throw on a raincoat and a pair of boots through sheer habit once October hits, whether you bemoan the constant state of almost-rain that accompanies the winter months, whether the change in climate patterns proves a long held hypothesis or whether you are the one free spirit who dives into puddles two feet first – one thing is certain. The weather, the moody, unpredictable, damp weather, is a savior when it comes to small-talk, the preserver of conversation, the protector against uncomfortable silences. So the next time you’re caught outside, late for class and without a raincoat, think of the last awkward conversation you experienced – and remember, the weather isn’t so bad after all.

Where Students Choose To Be