“Sun’s out, mammary glands out.”
With that noble proclamation, daytime festivities have begun on Roanoke Street. Months of gray skies, freezing nights and a distressing lack of cleavage are instantly forgotten as cans crack open and footballs are recklessly hurled near moving vehicles.
This is what we’ve been waiting for since football season, folks. April is here to shoo away winter doldrums, and not a moment too soon. Despite my best attempts at boosting morale with occasional successful humor columns, campus has been a bummer for weeks now. I don’t blame you. Long-term exposure to the Blacksburg elements is more effective at killing levity than a Jeff Dunham skit. It’s now a moot point thanks to the timely arrival of jorts weather. Assuming the bizarre spectacle of snow on a sunny day is past us, the season for outdoor frolicking has officially begun.
It’s been so long since our mountain climate treated us to sustained warmth that some may feel confused over how best to exploit this gift. There’s really no wrong way to go about it unless you’re lurking in a dark apartment like a cave troll. Still, months spent inside watching Hulu and memorizing bus schedules can throw off anyone’s outdoor sensibilities.
It’s also understandable that some may be wary of fully committing to the spring mindset. Blacksburg weather has been a fickle mistress in past weeks, teasing us with occasional 70-degree weather before yanking the dollar away on a string. You could practically hear the mocking laugh of Nelson from “The Simpsons” as shorts and polos had to continually be put back into the closet.
No, Mother Nature’s credibility is not at an all-time high. It’s entirely possible that the glorious warmth projected for this weekend will be yet another cruel tease. A leap of faith into spring could very well end up like my friend’s misguided dive into a hotel pool this past weekend: face-first in the shallow end.