There is nothing cool about the end of January. Now that the Pats are out of the playoffs and there are 15 minute segments on SportsCenter designated for Mel Kiper Jr, I don't know how to spend my days away from college. I could create a franchise in a video game from 2006 and only make it 3/8 through the season, I could make kooky breakfast creation, or I could shovel snow.
As a result of the average Rhode Island meteorologist's dopler radar, the third option became a reality this past week at a local apartment complex where I spent 2 days shoveling over a foot of snow off of a least 50 walk ways with 5 Mexicans.
I didn't take any Spanish in high school. Instead I took French. I never regretted my decision of taking French more than I did when I shoveled walkways with Mexicans earlier this week. Sure, I'd been around baseball games with screaming Puerto Rico fans yelling at me, but I was never in a working situation where my performance depended on understanding the Spanish language. However, after one of them looked at me and said: "Vamos" I knew there was no turning back.
For the time I spent with them I felt like I was a hostage. They could've been plotting to knock me out with the shovel, Home Alone style. As a result of my inability to speak Spanish I was stuck watching them point at the snow, ice melt, and a shovel while I played internal Clue with myself trying to figure how to shovel Colonel Mustard out of his apartment with a candlestick.
Despite their best efforts to speak broken Spanish to me about how the 50 foot pine tree covered in snow looked like a Christmas tree, I made it through both days of shoveling, leaving me with deep pockets filled with money that I could spend at the local flea market, futbol game, or state park.
Adios amigos
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