We never had a snow day in school in India, nor did we get a day off because of the rain, or because of a hailstorm. We had to settle on staring out the window and counting how far off March 31 was. The summer vacations began on April 1.

I did get three weeks off when I had typhoid, if that counts. I had no energy to play, but I did not have to worry about studying geography during that time. I virtually had perfect attendance all through school, and it is not an achievement I hoped to undo.

Clearly, one of the several downsides to studying at a boarding school is that weather rarely plays a role in school being canceled.

So you know that when I received a text halfway through my Thermodynamics class informing me that all classes after 4 p.m. were canceled, I was ecstatic beyond words. You might say I was on cloud nine or in seventh heaven. Note that this is not a cue to start a debate about heaven’s existence. You should save that for a pseudo-deep Facebook status update.

I was experiencing a rush remarkably similar to the ones I had as a little kid on every March 31. I could get out of these dreaded classrooms and play for as long as I pleased. No one would ask me to come in because it was getting dark outside.

Leaving the classroom, a friend of mine texted me about a snowball fight scheduled for the evening right outside WheatShocker. Excited, I started studying the effects of spin on snowballs under low humidity conditions at subsonic velocities. The Aerospace department and I differed in our definitions of what a productive use of the wind tunnel would be. Ultimately I had to make do with theoretical calculations instead. Pleased with my “war plan” and my obvious strategic superiority, I decided to work on my physical self. I may have worked out to “Eye of the Tiger” to prepare for the fight. But then again, I have been known to exaggerate.

I got stuck at work and could not make it to the snowball fight. I was not upset. I always hope for the best and expect the worst. Besides, my calculations did show a 10 percent probability of the event being unsuccessful.

My phone buzzed as I received another text informing me that classes for Thursday were called off. Not much later, I found out that a second snowball fight had been scheduled. I barely slept that night. I perfected my equations to some extent and worked out a little more. My neighbors do not like “Eye of the Tiger” as much as I do.

We got ready the next morning only to realize that my friend’s car was snowed in. Luckily, Tall Oaks is not far from WheatShocker. Overwhelmed by how hard it was to walk in knee-deep snow (some of us are very short), we decided to take a shortcut through the golf course. 15 minutes into our walk through the golf course, I realized that given the poor visibility, I had no clue where we were. All I could see were trees and snow.

I started to shiver, started to understand why some people hate snow, started to accept that I was probably going to die out there. A few minutes later, I realize we have been walking around in circles while trying to find a way to WheatShocker.

“Do you know where you’re going?” my friend asks, the anxiety in her voice very obvious as her roommate seems to be close to passing out because of the cold.

“Of course I do,” I reply, heading off in a random direction seeming confident.

I spot a fox running toward us out of the corner of my eye and try not to panic. Are wolves dangerous or are foxes dangerous? The fox stops, makes eye contact, and takes off in the opposite direction. Was he off to call his friends? We ran for our lives until the Marcus Welcome Center appeared out of nowhere. I have never been as glad to see a random building as I was then.

We finally did make it to the snowball fight at WheatShocker. As it turns out, my calculations were wrong, and I found myself face down in snow several times. I had to walk back in the blistering cold a few hours later.

It was probably the best weekend I have had for a very long time.