spastic hell printer must die

I have been slapped right in my dirty, whorish mouth.

Serves me right for talking about spring in the beginning of March. As soon as evening fell on that fateful day, the temperature plummeted to the low teens and the snow moved in, accompanied by some fantastically powerful wind. I was watching the beautiful whorls formed by the snow and wind in our horse shoe-shaped entry (and thinking about irony) when I heard a commotion from the boys' floor. Sebastian, our 23 year old Argentinean student had just stumbled in, shaking and covered in snow. Turns out he had been taking the subway back to campus when the wind wreaked havoc on his light rail train. The power cable snapped and sent a shower of sparks all around the train car. The other passengers panicked as only seasoned Bostonians can, as he tried in (very) broken English to tell people not to touch grounded metal. Eventually, all the passengers were herded off the train into a forced death-march through the blizzard to the next station, then left to their own devices. For Sebastian that meant walking the better part of a mile over to a parallel train line. Long story not quite as long, he was out in the elements for a solid two hours in only a tee-shirt and fleece.

He told this story to a rapt audience of nearly the entire dorm, of whom I am the only native English speaker. I'm sure that they all thought I was a callous bitch for laughing so hard at every element of the story; but imagine, if you will, twenty ESL students. One of them is trying to come up with the words to describe showers of sparks and grounded metal and death marches, and the others are trying to help him by anticipating the next part of his story. In order to get their helpful points across they are coming up with some of the most creative hand gestures and pantomime I have ever seen. Meanwhile, I'm correcting their grammar and word choice. Now tell me if even one part of that image is not freaking hilarious.

Exactly.