Mother Nature does funny things to people.

I’ve been at a loss to explain what happened last Thursday. No, I am not blind to the fact that the snow god chose to dump inches upon inches of the white stuff on us as we blindly stumbled and tripped our way across the tundra-transformed campus.

But as I stumbled, tripped and made unintelligible grunts and sighs, I realized no one was laughing at me—they were laughing with me.

People were actually smiling and talking to strangers—something they would have probably avoided at all costs the day before. When I fell into a snowbank no one cursed me as a klutz, but offered a hand. When I passed someone on the way to a class, they didn’t cross the sidewalk, look away and put their head down like they were suddenly intrigued with their shoelaces. People actually said hello and shared a “isn’t-this-just-totally-weird-and-nutty” look.

I even chatted with another pink-cheeked, soaking wet person in an elevator, insead of shifting my weight, picking my fingernails and periodically making sure the the floor numbers at the top of the door were still clinging and lighting up.

It’s not just blizzards that bind; any natural disaster or potentially harmful weather condition seems to draw people closer together. During the destructive flooding in my neighborhood a few years back people swarmed to help–in any way they could. Four days of 100 degree weather two summers ago stirred conversations that might never have been shared if the mercury didn’t climb.

After San Fransisco’s devastating earthquake last October, hundreds of heroes risked their lives to rescue others trapped in rubble and fire. Selfishness and mistrust went out the window.

Meanwhile, in U.S. cities not plagued by a Mother Nature twist, people walked past each other with nary a grin or flicker of recognition.

I’m not suggesting people are typically rude, arrogant or disinterested in their fellow men and women. They’re not. I believe people are actually shy—natural disasters and bad weather give us something to talk about and allow us to come out of our shell and go out of our way. It seems people are relieved to be able to talk to and help others when the going gets rough. We simply need prodding.

Weather and nature are common denominators–they hit all of us regardless of color, creed and income. In our increasingly impersonal and sterile world of technology, those are still factors we cannot control. We can build missiles, dabble in test tube fetuses, cure disease and land on the moon, but it is highly unlikely we can stop a snowstorm or heat wave.

On that preachy note, I’ll step off the soapbox and go shovel my sidewalk. If you see a person resembling the above (icky) mug shot, say hi. We don’t need an avalanche to talk.

(P.S. for those of you who missed last week due to the Alaskan conditions, entries are still being accepted for the Brady Contest. Send us your ideas for the wackiest episode for the new Brady Bunch series and win a 16-inch one-topping pizza from Marchelloni. Entries will be judged by the Weekender staff on creativity, suitability and humor and will be published in this space. Deadline is still February 5.)