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Jan 23, 2006

I hate city rain.

Other rain is fine. Country rain has lots of outdoorsy spaces to run around in and tire itself out. Suburban rain is the same way, except suburbs don't have outdoors, they have "green space." The rain doesn't care, of course; so long as there's a place for the rain, and a place for the people, and these are well-defined and separate, the two get along famously. You can sit down in your nice, isolated house, listening to the water plonk contentedly onto your roof, and read or watch TV or learn Portugese or waste time some other way for hours. Even if you decide to go out, in the suburbs or the country you know damn well you're taking a car, thank you very much. Again, a well-defined, separate space.

Not so city rain. In cities, you can't just run around: there are people and buildings and satellite dishes scattered around everywhere. There's no ground, either: if you think about it, cities are just great big unbroken expanses of floor space. The rain sees walls, floors and people all around and gets understandably confused. It dithers around trying to figure out what to do, and gets underfoot.

Even if the rain manages to find some grass, it quickly realizes, oh, shit, I'm in a garden. Gardens have fences and sidewalks and such all around; they don't drain properly and it's hardly any better than landing on a sidewalk. The rain gets dirty, too, because if there's anything a city is good for, it's taking something pristine and sullying it up good.

This morning I had to go to class, carrying my laptop, a gigantic newsprint pad, and an umbrella. I had the valuables all tucked under whatever spare bits of myself I could find, mother-hen style, to keep them dry. For the most part, it was working, too. Then I saw some oncoming traffic in the street and thought, oh, shit, I'm standing next to the doomsday puddle.

I would explain doomsday puddles, but I assume that as children you all were familiar with at least one. We're talking the sort of puddles kids think they could drown in. Remember? Good.

The first two cars saw it coming and slowed down appreciably. I had by now sidled over to the far end of the sidewalk, but unfortunately I was approaching a bridge and the guardrail was already preventing me from going any further. The spray wet my boots but then fell away.

My luck was not to last.

The third car was one of those douchebags who drive black 80's sports cars. I apologize to any of you if you happen to be one of said douchebags, but the truth will out. Pop-up headlights are not cool. This guy, I swear, must have actually gunned the motor when he saw me, because the spray actually reached up under my umbrella and doused my face, not to mention everything I was carrying.

I showed up for my career center appointment looking like a drowned rat. This really set the tone for the rest of the day.

I like Athens. A lot. But I am not a city dweller.
Nick ::: 6:10 PM ::: 1 comments

1 Comments:

you should come up here, most winters (this winter is an exception with the warm weather) we're covered in slush. walking through 3 inchs of soggy wet goop every day is great fun.

By  Anonymous, at 12:14 AM  

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