Well, you’re probably all familiar with me at this point, but I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to start with a brief introduction. Without further ado: I’m the mudslide! That’s right: The mudslide. You know, the mudslide—or landslide, I’m not picky—that covered the train tracks in Briarcliff Manor, halting Metro-North service to Poughkeepsie and earning shoutouts from New York State Governor Kathy Hochul and Vassar College Transportation Manager Salvatore Incorvaia in the process. I know, I know. I don’t usually do selfies with fans, but you seem sweet, so get on in here!
Now that we’ve gotten the pleasantries out of the way, there’s actually something that I wanted to talk to you about. Since I slid down that hillside on Saturday morning, I’ve noticed a disturbing lack of gratitude on the part of Vassar students and the wider Hudson Valley community. I’m sure it’s nothing personal—you all seem very nice—but it’s really been hurting my feelings, so I thought I’d clear up a few misconceptions that have been floating around and make sure that you’re all sufficiently appreciative of everything I did for you.
I’m gonna start with a big one: this idea I keep hearing that I “inconvenienced” people or caused “problems.” Okay, did a few people have to cancel their travel plans? Maybe. But, for your information, Metro-North tickets can be used on any trip along a given route, so I think you should all stop being so dramatic. Anyways, if one little canceled train is enough to mess up everything for you, maybe you need to try living in the moment a little more and stop being so materialistic. Why are you more worried about “trains” and “attending college” than your growth as a person? Seems toxic. You should stop whining about mudslides and look inwards for once.
I’d like to dispel the notion that it’s somehow a negative thing that you had to take a shuttle bus from Tarrytown to Croton-Harmon on your way to Poughkeepsie. All too often, Vassar students forget that there’s life off campus. Now, I handed you a golden opportunity to get out there and see more of the beautiful Mid-Hudson Valley, and you’re complaining about it? It seems to me like all of you are missing the forest for the trees here. That bus took you past the Tarrytown Farmers Market and Town Hall and offered scenic views of the local landscapes. Who did that? Me! Did it add a little bit of travel time? Maybe, maybe not. Who’s to say? The focus, though, should be on the life experience you had thanks to none other than yours truly.
Not only did I offer you a chance to see the beautiful county of Westchester, but it was also a golden opportunity to form new friendships and romantic relationships. Think about it—how better to bond and hit it off with a new connection than commiserating over a shared cancellation? How awesome would it have been if you had met the love of your life on the platform at Grand Central because of me? The only reason that didn’t happen is because you were too busy being mean to me to see the chance I was giving you. They probably would have made a movie about you if that had happened. You could have been played by Zendaya. Your loss.
I also want to make sure that all of you ingrates understand just how much work goes into mudsliding. You don’t slide down a hillside and take tons—tons!—of material with you on a lark—it takes years of preparation! Years spent building up water in the soil, weakening root systems, gathering dirt and rocks, all leading up to this one moment. Yet you can’t muster even a little bit of appreciation for all of that hard work? Typical. Today’s youth wouldn’t understand hard work if it hit them in the face. Let me tell you, there are no “participation trophies” in mudsliding.
One last thing—how come mudslides don’t get names? Hurricanes and tropical storms do. Earthquakes don’t, I suppose, but they’re mostly just helpers for mudslides. We can be very impactful, you know. A name would go a long way in bringing much-needed recognition to mudslides. I’ve always been fond of “Lucille.”
Anyways, if you’re not grateful now, I suppose there’s just no helping you. But remember: Thank your local mudslide. We’re doing it for you.