I woke up on Sunday at 10 a.m. to get ready for my weekly 10:15 church service. I like to give myself enough time to brush my teeth, but not much more; the people sitting in the pews around me probably wonder if I've showed up to church with a hangover. When I got to Parking Lot H, I realized that the plows had been through the night before and left a two-foot pile of snow pressing up against the back of my car. The right thing to do would have been to try and kick some of the snow out of the way, but I sometimes like to think that I'm a champion and exist above the laws of nature. I started the car and immediately gunned it in reverse.
To say I got stuck would be an understatement – I could not get out of that parking spot. After wasting gas going back and forth seven or eight times, four men wearing an assortment of sweatpants and sweatshirts with the Sigma Nu letters on them appeared in the lot and started walking toward me and my disaster.
I said I was sorry to have inconvenienced them, and they assured me that helping out was no big deal. One of them joked, though, that if I hit the cars behind me when I reversed, they wouldn't take responsibility. I touched the gas once again, and they all pushed. In less than a second I was out of my spot. I said thanks, and they were gone as fast as they'd come.
I'm not saying that this is some fabulous heroic story or a "chivalry isn't dead" campaign that is going to shake up the school. I don't even remember what the Good Samaritans looked like – maybe only one of them had Sig Nu on his hoodie, I can't be too sure, and the chance that one of them will even read this article is slim.
The whole situation just put such a good taste in my mouth, and I got the fuzzy feeling that I like to imagine people in Mayberry must have had all the time. At any rate, my suitemates thank them for redirecting what would have been an otherwise nasty mood on my part.
Keep it classy, Geneseo. People are watching, always.