The city is awash and my toes are wet.
Apparently tomorrow morning I've got to slog through some weather-warning quality epic storm to make a 9am class. I really wish I could play professional while wearing gumboots and sweatpants some days.
I've lived in this city of rain (that one whose name we don't say even though half of you have figured it out!) for three years now. It is a funny thing to become well versed in a culture of downpour. One can never quite prepare for the impact that water plummeting from the sky can have on your day-to-day life.
As such, I decided to educate you all on the few things heavy rainfall has taught me:
- The effects of rain are felt several fold for us poor souls sans automobile. I can't tell you how many times I've cursed the existence of commuters in their pre-warmed sedans as I walk blocks with my umbrella turned inside out or huddle under a few millimeters of bus shelter.
- Rain is the ultimate detector of nooks and crannies. The road looks flat in the summer? Think again. There is a big enough dip where you step off the crosswalk to create a pool that could drown a small child. It's like ten feet across and the water comes up past my ankles, people!
- A special brand of puddle, found only in the autumn? The camoflagued leaf puddle. It looks like yet another stompable pile of leaves... but don't be deceived. Beneath it lies a watery cavern.
- Rain brings out the creepy-crawlies. You already know about slugs' penchant for my front stoop. Today I saw a tremendously long earthworm skittering along as well. Poor guy's home has been flooded!
- Humidity hair sucks. Downpour hair is shot for the entire day. There is no salvaging your appearance. I am clueless as to how a stream of water (which is what you shower in, for Christ's sake!) can cause so many tangles.
- Not only does the hazard of rain force one to be accompanied by an umbrella a good chunk of the time (and is especially problematic when you have a tendency to leave them under chairs as I do), but it also forces you to become versed in the details of umbrella etiquette.
A few examples, for those of you less skilled in this decorum as I:
~ Walking under an awning with an open umbrella is a no-no when non-umbrella'd folks are around.
~Size matters, folks, but not in the way you think. People who (seriously!) are too lazy to buy a real umbrella, and thus pull out their oversized patio umbrellas and take up an entire sidewalk should be drowned in a crosswalk puddle.
~When two similar sized people are walking towards each other on a narrow sidewalk, one of you has to stretch the umbrella above your head for you both to fit. Do not attempt to play umbrella chicken to see who budges first.
~Do not wait until the last second to board the bus to fumble with closing your umbrella. You saving two seconds exposed to the rain is not worth forcing the rest of us, who had already pre-closed our umbrella, to get soaked for several more seconds.
~And, finally, do not put your wet umbrella on the bus seat beside you. That sludge does not evaporated. In fact, it doesn't go anywhere until it is absorbed into my brand new pair of pants.
Wow, I don't think I've ever written the word umbrella so many times. I feel like a damn Rihanna song.
(Shit. Now it's in my head.)
Anyone wanna help me with the resurgence of the term bumbershoot?
And my final point of wisdom:
- Rain will do its damn best to keep you indoors, and most of the time, slippers and tea will win over moist socks and chilled hands. However, every once in a while, it can be the most delightful thing in the world to just accept you are getting soaked, and to go out and frolick. It is refreshing to jump in a rain puddle once in a while and return inside with dripping eyelashes.
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
The city is awash and my toes are wet.