New York City in the rain is one of my least favorite things. I’m not saying the city isn’t beautiful in the rain, because of course I think so.
I’m saying the whole business of walking around this metropolis, navigating with an umbrella-appendage is bothersome. On a day like today, stumbling around the streets of New York with a nausea of humidity and moisture among the billions of other workminded folk, it’s a bit awkward.
It feels like being in the sea, one insignificant fish flitting among the flow and eb of the avenues trying to find my way, the number of umbrellas floating endlessly like a crowd of colorful, water-repellent jellyfish.
There’s nowhere to turn without bumping into another person or raising your umbrella so as to not smack anyone on the head. As a shorter person, it’s not unusual to feel the drip of the rain runoff from someone else’s umbrella.
But somehow, the annoyance of it all, being forced into a obligatory reef of likeminded commuters and playing umbrella bumper tag before work while skipping around dirty ankle-high sewage water makes me realize that we are all in this same big world together and no matter where we’re going or who we may look like, we are all alike; colliding through life one puddle at a time.