One winter, there was an incredible snow storm which left a layer of snow as high as my hips; granted, I was nine so hip-level snow was like knee high snow for an adult. Along a fence at school were snow drifts that were impressive to a class of nine year olds. Armed with only snow pants that were hardly water proof and winter gloves that were equally so, we set out to dig tunnels and a fort out of the snow.

We worked like ants, clearing out paths and gutting out hollows. Soon we had a venerable city underneath this drift of snow.

Now I, being the industrious one, took on the initiative to add a small side tunnel to connect to the adjacent one for feng shui. This part I only vaguely remember. A girl on the outside told me not to dig through the wall for some reason, and I ignored her cause girls are stupid. I began with my index finger scraping a little area in the middle of the tunnel until my finger got to the other side. "Good start," I thought and promptly took my finger out to admire my handy work.

Then the entire structure above me collapsed like a ton of bricks, or snow as it were. Somehow I had got my head out of the tunnel in the split second that gravity took hold of the avalanche of snow. I was looking up at the sky feeling the crush of what could have been the Stay Puft Marshmellow Man sitting on my chest. Was it ever hard to breath.

All the kids immediately stopped what they were doing and began excavating me out of the rubble.

No one knew how it happened except me.