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Marsh Madness Erin Marsh |
It's coming. Some would argue it's already here.
Snow. Ice. Frostbite.
Winter in Michigan. Isn't it wonderful?
Contrary to popular complaint, the weather is one of my favorite things about living in Michigan. Getting to class in Michigan winters is an action-adventure thriller - much like navigating the commute from I-94 to central campus on a football Saturday, but with less gridlock and more profanity.
Students develop an active interest in the weather when it's cold - type, size, weight and configuration of snow becomes a significant topic of conversation. The newfound seasonal interest in temperature and precipitation every November leads avid weather connoisseurs everywhere to the greatest invention of the 20th century: The Weather Channel.
First of all, The Weather Channel should be worshiped and revered for the sheer quantity of procrastination potential it provides. You can watch hours upon hours of some of the least mentally taxing information available on television. An afternoon of Weather Channel watching provides no issues, no wars, no politics, no sports games - and yet it still manages to be culturally relevant and engaging.
For example, Weather Channel correspondents demonstrate the art of taking pride in their jobs. They have a great work ethic. Think about it and evaluate your ability to sit and talk about the weather all day. "Nobody could do that," you think.
And yet, there they are, those pillars of strength, bringing you the humidity statistics for Hackensack, N.J., day in, day out.
Not only do they tirelessly report useless news, they will suffer the most difficult environmental conditions to do so. Correspondents report from the middle of hurricanes, with torrential rains and gale-force winds and an impending tsunami, clinging desperately to a streetlamp and screaming, "No one is left here on the island! The National Guard has evacuated all residents! The conditions are the worst I've ever seen! I'm not sure I can hang on much -"
The Weather Channel offers information you simply will not find anywhere else - and with good reason. In daily broadcasts, it will give the "Cold and Flu" update. This report lists cities that are in the "red zone," or peak cold and flu season. So Detroiters, New Yorkers and Washingtonians better keep the tissues nearby. Chicagoans are safe for another week.
The "Pain Index" is another of these profound reports. It lists the relative regional humidity and predicts which areas of the country will be particularly troublesome for arthritis sufferers. I am not kidding.
The Weather Channel also facilitates students' imaginations. Say you want to plan a trip.
(This, of course, could not be a real trip, because you are overdue on the phone and cable bills [and you are actually living in terror because the cable gods could disconnect you from your Weather Channel fix any day now], you aren't sure how much cash is left in your checking account because you haven't balanced it since 1992, and you are facing a steady diet of Ramen until financial aid comes through with the check it's owed you since September. In short, you're not exactly in the market for a trip to Barbados.)
But say you were.
The Weather Channel can hook you up with temperatures, seasonal highs, seasonal lows, times of sunrise, sunset, tide change and the mayor's daily lunch appointments for virtually any city in the country. It provides more useless information than you couldn't use in a year.
Also, if you're not sure where your imaginary trip will take you, The Weather Channel helps by showing footage of the weather in random cities. Little video postcards, if you will. So, you can watch the sun shine in Macon, Ga., the rain fall in Portland, Ore., and the wind blow in Chicago, Ill. Maybe they're trying to give us the impression of looking out of other people's windows. Aaah, The Weather Channel - bringing us all closer together.
Lastly, The Weather Channel provides students a great service: It can justify - or quell guilt for - skipping class due to adverse weather conditions. The conscientious classgoers among us like to have something to blame - Weather Channel reports can free us from the psychological bounds of guilt so we can stay home, in prime couch-potato position, and do what we really wanted to do anyway: hear about the barometric pressure in Duluth.
- Erin Marsh really doesn't have as much time on her hands as it may appear. Reach her over e-mail at eemarsh@umich.edu.