Rain does not look like this, for the Love of Pete.
It looks like This:
It is shit storming rain today in Manhattan, folks, all day. Guaranteed to make you slip and slightly reveal your moderately slutty Yet PRACTICAL underwear. Also guaranteed to make you call people you don’t know ‘motherfuckers’ in your head when they get in your way (Children; Old People.)
Not only is the rain itself an Asshole, it is also a relentless Stalker and killer of Cute Plans. I awoke this morning to a killer thunderstorm with incomparable rain, rain. I could do nothing but sit on my bed, half dressed, feeling conflicted. What does one wear for the Apocalypse? I sat there pouting until it slowed. I then selected some old flip’s, a black sundress, and my old school Red little kid Lacoste Rain coat, and foraged onwards towards the train: The Rain, in Brooklyn, had stopped. After a pissy train-ride on a crowded train of pissy wet Rats Disguised as People, I arrive in Manhattan – to find that the Rain had followed me.
But there is one wonderful and amazing thing about the Rain. ONE, mind you, because other wise it blows and ruins shoes and moods. I noticed Something today, as I trudged through Midtown, legs wet, brows furrowed, cowering under my cheap ass old navy umbrella. A pioneer, I was: a voyager. I had a Hard Drive to deliver, and I was going to do it, gosh darn it all.
When I arrived at my destination 302 Fifth Ave, The old man manning the door was smiling , and happy to let me in – he felt nearly Christ-like, I think, due to the haven he had the power of providing me with.
While I waited for the Ambigious Computer Smart Tech Person to meet me downstairs – the Old man and I talked about the Rain.
See – there are certain experiences that bring people together. Granted, they are usually shitty but – they make us share our stories with unabashed forwardness.
‘I got on the bus this morning at Seven Twenty Three and you Barely See out the Bus!’
‘My Umbrella Died!’
‘It coulda been more polite and waited til 10 when everybody got to work to start Rainin like this!’
‘Yes. The Rain is rude. It followed me from Brooklyn!’
And when I left this place, I noticed it everywhere thereafter – people feeling compelled to talk about their encounters with the Wet.
In a way when something crappy happens – We are all in it together – we are all getting rained on. Things are sucking for us, together. We feel inclined to share the specifics of our sucking. Where we are going, where we’ve been, rendered inconsequential, because it is just plain nice to share a moment of pain and understanding and sympathy with an Old Man who wants more than anything to open the door for you – and welcome you out of the rain.