I’ve done my research and I’ve concluded: snow is wet. Wikipedia so aptly defines it for us as “crystalline water ice,” and though I don’t actually know what that means, it has the word “water” in it.

I didn’t wise up to the prudent practice of using an umbrella in the snow until I came to college. I’m not one of those hella awesome Californians who had never seen snow before arriving in Massachusetts. Instead, I’m the person who got the day off from school when 20 inches were forecasted. Before college and daily treks to the Yard, I would gaze longingly at the enchanting shimmery whiteness outside my window without needing to step foot in it.

But then I came to Harvard. And then I got Quadded.

Perhaps the best example of an umbrella as a symbol of preparedness in treacherous Cambridge conditions occurs when God blesses us with the beloved “wintry mix,” which in my experience is a euphemism for “wet shit falling from the sky.”

And even though it looks really hot to walk into class drenched from head-to-toe in dirty particle-ridden slush, I’ve heard that this isn’t the best way to ward off colds (and whatever else you might pick up from said questionable particles).

Besides, why not draw attention to your colorful personality with that equally vibrant yellow umbrella? Or, if you’re feeling a bit reclusive, they also afford you your own bubble of personal space on the invariably packed shuttle, since no one will want to stand near your dripping umbrella (open the umbrella for even more space).

But seriously, while critics argue that people whose massive umbrellas take up the entire sidewalk are obnoxious, I prefer to be more opportunistic about it: you could use its clumsiness as a smooth excuse to “accidentally bump into” that cute guy or girl after you both leave section and then invite him/her to stand under it with you (eh eh eh) ....