I cautiously try to advance forward, trying not to slip on the pavement that is already covered with a thick sheet of ice. The 30 mile an hour winds push me back, but I trek on. My thin jacket does little to guard against the sub-zero temperatures. I can hardly open my eyes due to the tiny ice particles gashing into my face, like hundreds of tiny pin pricks. I put my hands in front of my face and look down toward the ground, slowly making it across the Arctic tundra that is Q-Lot. Finally, seeing Tanner Hall a few feet away from me, I know that I will soon be safe. Is this what the weather is supposed to be like in March? I think not.