Our apartment only had street parking, and our street was the main route to a hospital. The good is that it always got plowed right away. The bad is that when a plow pushes one big stripe down the middle of a semi-major road in 12 inches of snow, your car is then burried in at least 3-4 feet of the stuff and requires a few hours to dig out. So hard was this work that people (myself included) got protective of their parking spaces that they had spent so much sweat creating. When you left to go to the groccery, you'd pull up into the street, get out, take a lawn chair out of your trunk and place it in the nook you had dug your car out of along the curb. Then the whole time you were out getting milk and toilet paper in preparation for the next snow fall, you prayed the cops hadn't come by and tossed all the lawn chairs on your street to the sidewalk.
It was a small college, and living off campus wasn't like being a part of a big party or something like friends of mine experienced at larger universities. Our apartment was the 2nd floor of a row house on a residential street with only a couple other similar apartments of college students on it. Everyone else was families or older people. This made snow shoveling nights almost magical (pardon the cheesiness). Everyone would be out there, from our French Carribbean neighbors to the Menonite couple with their 6 adopted kids across the street. Everything was quiet in that way that only exists after a snow storm. People stopped to chat, even help others out after they had finished their own walkways and cars. It was the type of night that made you want to whip up a big pot of hot chocolate and invite everyone in for an impromptu party.
Sadly, I'm tired, have been in my jammies since 4pm, and it's so wicked cold out I can't muster the same excitement for going out and shoveling. Again, I can always use the girl card and make one of the boys do it in the morning.