Over the past week, I seem to have developed a case of “GW-itis.” I’ve got it all: the cough, the sore throat, the stuffy nose, that weak feeling in my joints. This is all in addition to that total lack of motivation to get out of bed for a class that starts after noon.

So it doesn’t help me much when I check the weather report first thing after I wake up, only to find out that it’s yet another shitty day in the middle of April.

It’s as if we got a little cock-tease of spring a couple weeks ago only to have winter show its weathered face again. But it won’t just leave, either. Instead it has decided to stick around for a little while longer, much like the annoying guest who refuses to leave when it’s painfully obvious that everyone hates them.

I want the weather to be like it was two weeks ago: sun, birds, cherry-blossoms, short skirts, skin … (Like I said, cock-tease).

Since I’m writing this early, there’s the possibility that by the time this runs next week, the weather will have changed and everyone will be out enjoying the nice day with skirts, shorts, sandals and all.

But I doubt it.

I could always say something utterly crazy to justify this madness, like something along the line that God is upset with America’s war in Iraq or with GW’s decision to make President Trachtenberg the keynote speaker at Commencement, and is therefore punishing EVERYONE! How dare that mortal insult the future political and world leaders who are graduating this May with such a shameful act of self-sensationalism?

Or maybe it’s all Don Imus’ fault. Yeah, that’s it.

Whatever the reason for this ludicrous weather system, it’s really taken a negative toll on me. I quickly developed a cold and soon realized I couldn’t smell anything, which also meant that I couldn’t taste anything either – including alcohol. And that is why I nearly got arrested by the Secret Service Saturday night.

Now hold on, I wasn’t doing anything wrong. It was a friend of mine, a lunatic in his own right, who thought it would be a good idea to run across a line of parked cars on 24th Street in the pouring rain like some sort of human monster truck, setting off car alarms and catching the attention of an off-duty agent who quickly turned on his police lights and ordered us to sit on the curb as he ran our IDs and called for backup.

There I sat, in the freezing rain, as I watched my buddy get handcuffed and thrown into the back of a paddy wagon. Sick, cold, wet, rather drunk and cops everywhere – this was, by all means, a bad situation.

Now, I don’t plan on ever running for political office, but a criminal record is not something I ever plan on having either. I politely tried to explain to an angered policeman as he ordered me to put my hands behind my back that I had done nothing wrong, other than trying to escort a belligerent asshole back home.

Not that I’ve had to do it many times before, but talking to the cops is an art. It requires patience, extreme politeness, acknowledgement of wrongdoing and sincere regret for your actions. And since I’m such a good artist, he ordered me to sit back down instead of throwing me in the drunk tank with my friend.

After sitting in the cold rain for nearly 15 minutes, soaking wet with snot running down my nose, the police assessed the assaulted cars and concluded that my utterly stupid friend had not caused any damage. They un-cuffed him and let him go as he screamed, “They ain’t got shit on me! I’m free!”

The Secret Service agent, in turn, yelled at me, “Hey! You watch your friend! He’s a crazy bastard!”

Fast-forward to Monday afternoon and I cannot get out of bed because of my GW-itis. The cold and the rain got the best of me as my mouth is dry from not being able to breathe through my nose, my throat hurts and I’m coughing up something green.

So I’m begging you, Lord Almighty, please let spring show her face again. I can’t take this flip-flopping weather too much longer, and neither can the Secret Service.

Sooner or later they’re going to actually haul off some drunken idiot for vandalism when the weather is nicer and they have more time to assess the damage.

-The writer, a junior majoring in journalism, is Hatchet humor columnist. He has never been arrested, but that’s likely to change if spring doesn’t come back quickly.