By: Yasmin Hassan, Staff Writer

So, uh, I’ve been invited to go skiing. Skiing? In this economy? Right, right, I forgot that not everyone has to choose between ski boots or textbooks every time the temperature drops and it snows all the way yonder on yee old mountains. The saying among us peasants is that you cannot have both unless you learn how to ski on financial aid papers. However, others in . . . another tax bracket may not see it this way. 

You can tell someone grew up skiing when their idea of “saving money” is skipping apres-ski cocktails, not the $300 lift ticket. To my skiing friends: I love you, but your college starter pack was a solid metal credit card and a family chalet in the heart of Whistler, not a value pack of highlighters (albeit they are handy). While I appreciate that you would consider inviting me to shred some powder, I’m already on thin ice financially; I don’t need to hit the slopes to make it real. And although I’d love to come in person to admire your full Arcteryx get-up, custom Chrome Hearts ski goggles, and a snowboard signed by Shaun White himself, I’ll resort to watching virtually via your Instagram stories. I hope you enjoy the overpriced ski lodge food; that $15 hot chocolate made with water is calling your name (thankfully not mine)! 

Oh, you found a cheap lift ticket? Nice! I’ll just go ahead and grab my nonexistent $600 worth of gear and a vehicle of choice to get to the mountain. Ah, but what about thrifting? Secondhand skis, mayhaps? Cool, can I also buy a secondhand bank account that isn’t empty? The way my finances keep me awake, makes me see things at night. Might as well ask the Benadryl Hat Man to come down the slopes with me. And I can’t tell what scares me more: a black diamond trail or the increasing tuition that seems to go nowhere. Both make me want to curl into a ball and slide down to the bottom. Though, tuition is seriously the only downhill slope I can (or CAN’T) afford to be on right now, and it’s not that fun! 

So, no, I can’t go skiing this week — or next week, or ever — until they start accepting Monopoly money or my leftover U-Pass dollars at the lift ticket counter. In the meantime, I’ll be here, throwing snowballs into the koi pond on campus, trying to feel something other than the mild hypothermia setting into my toes. 

Kisses!