This morning, a plethora of bundled up, jolly families perused the campus and marvelled at the beautiful snow statues.  They wondered at their intricacies and commented on how marvelous it is that students willingly spend their free time on such a constructive and unique occupation.  The kids shrieked with delight as they spotted their favorite board games and video game characters being brought to life.  The image of the snow statues presented on that quiet Thursday morning is a highly romanticized and misleading representation of a realistically cold and bitter process.
This insight into statue building is not intended to diminish such gargantuan accomplishments, it is merely meant to communicate the other side of the story.  This story exists behind the smooth glazed surface and beyond the shining eyes of impressed and astonished admirers.  This is the story of students facing negative 25 degree wind chill and standing ankle deep in cold, icy slush, furiously stomping.  This is the story of precariously balanced scaffolding, which threatens to fling machetes and hatchets from its upper level to the ground below at the slightest jostle.
Worse than the physical dangers of building a snow statue is the abuse suffered when a student neglects their hall or organization’s masterpiece.  
I have heard stories of power being cut to rooms and hefty monetary fines given to those who would rather stay in and do homework than hack away at a solid block of ice for hours on end.  And though being in any hall or organization obligates you to participate in statue, I can’t say I blame anyone who stubbornly refuses to face hypothermia, fifty-dollar fine or not.  
This is my first year participating in a month long statue.  The viciousness of competition is palpable, being the best is the only option, anything else would merely be a waste of sore muscles and frost-bitten fingertips. Although I choose to block the pains of statue building with the prospect of completion, others resort to more potent methods to cope such as alcohol and gallons of Monster, the remains of which litter the ground after the All-Nighter.
It is truly miraculous that each year such time-consuming statues always end up fully completed and highly professional looking. I can testify that the morale of the statue crews do not maintain such a steady trajectory in the lead up to Winter Carnival. The first night of statue building is a veritable geyser of enthusiasm and excitement. The last few hours of the All-Nighter however, are a grim struggle; the last few diehards stubbornly chip away at blocks of ice in a desperate attempt to complete the statue before judging.
All night they have been powered by hot chocolate and deep-fried Twinkies, a remarkably energizing combination.
Although I have painted a grim picture of statue building, this isn’t to say that it’s not all worth it. There are certainly rewards, if nothing else the sound sleep after the All-Nighter. The admiration of family and friends is certainly something to be considered as well. And while we could stay inside until spring, the severity and length of Houghton winters almost demand some sort of icy, arctic endeavor be undertaken.