Which came first? The Bucket List or the Bucket List Blog? The answer is the egg. Think about it, the chicken had to come from somewhere. Does that answer your question? Well, yes, it probably does. But it doesn’t answer mine, so I’ll also add that the Bucket List came before the Bucket List Blog. Hence, there are inevitably things that I knocked off the list before my blogging career commenced. Therefore, I have chosen to retrospectively blog about certain experiences that I deem worthy of mention. Henceforth and thereforemoreto**, I will periodically be posting “Remember When’s” or stories of Bucket List adventures that happened further in the past.
Here Begins the First Remember When:
Ever since I learned that sledding on trays was a thing, I’ve wanted to do it. In fact, it’s arguably the only reason I even decided to go to college (never mind the fact that I chose to be in the South). But let’s be honest, tray sledding is probably the most quintessential college pastime you can think of (once you rule out all of the colleges that don’t have snow or hills or fun people and if you don’t count partying, flunking out of Calc, throwing couches out of windows, and more partying). Needless to say, I felt like tray sledding was a right of passage and something that every college citizen–nay, every citizen of the world–ought to do before they die.
This conclusion led me to the task of absconding with a tray from my dining hall on one snowy night in January. Living in Richmond means you must seize every opportunity to enjoy wintry activities before the one glorious inch of snow we get three nights a year chooses to melt away. So, now was the time. I decided the best way to steal a tray would be to stuff it in my coat and pretend that my newfound bulk had simply resulted from having eaten too many hush puppies at dinner.
As soon as the trays were casually incorporated into our winter outfits, my friends and I bolted out the door and made a beeline for the hills. Or more literally, we made for the hills after picking up a shopping bag from my room to stuff the trays in so we could lose the hush-puppy weight. That way, if anyone happened to notice our overly large trays then we’d have a fighting chance to sell them on the story that Stop and Shop stocks remarkably similar products. (We might have been slightly overzealous in our tactics–I seriously doubt that anyone besides the Dhall staff would really have cared that we were running around with pilfered trays).
But luckily, we made it to the hill without confrontation. Let me tell you–there is nothing quite like slipping down a hill on a piece of waxed plastic that is too small to fit your legs and seems to work better facing backwards than forwards. After several races, snowball fights, and various snowy shenanigans, we had all but cleared the hill of its lean cover of powder and discovered that not only were our clothes soaking wet but we could no longer feel our fingers. All in all, the evening was a success. And I may or may not still have those trays stashed away in my room, waiting for another perfect snow.
**I may have taken some liberties with my wording; as I may have mentioned, I’m still actively working on producing my own dictionary