A Rainy New York Evening

As I’m leaving work last week, I got caught in a downpour. A never ending downpour. I walked out the back door and figured it would only last a few minutes, so I lit a cigarette and sought cover under the tiny awning on 67th Street.

My cigarette was long gone and other smokers had come and gone, but the clouds kept on dumping. I decided I was going to make a run for it, but I knew it would be no easy task. I had no jacket, no umbrella and of course, I was wearing flip-flops. The best footwear for flooded Manhattan streets.

So I take off across 67th Street (because there's more cover on that side of the block) leaping over a puddle next to the curb. Success. I cleared it. Then I got to the other side of the street. Not so successful over there, as I caught the front of my foot in a puddle as I jumped onto the sidewalk. I paused under the awning of the building I was in front of and tried to shake some of the water off my foot. I “air-dried” it as best as I could and then started strategizing about my trip around the block to 68th Street. One block seems like an eternity in the rain.

Off I went, walking rapidly from awning to tree to awning, eventually making my way under a scaffolding at the end of the block. I took a minute to wipe the rain off my face and slick my hair back. I was the picture of hotness…just for the record.

I finally departed from the shelter of the scaffolding. I was apprehensive because I knew there was no other cover until I made it around to the next street. Fuck.

I was walking as fast as I could but, by the time I had rounded the corner and headed up Central Park West, my flip flops had already taken on more water then the Titanic. And soggy flip flops are not conducive to walking fast. So now I was some sight…soaking wet, hair frizzed out all over the place, disgruntled beyond belief and now, last but not fucking least, my feet were sliding out of my flip flops and touching the concrete. The very same concrete that homeless people and dogs had pissed all over. My OCD was now in fucking overdrive and I was fit to be tied.

I turned the corner, no longer concerned with awnings, trees and scaffoldings. I just walked/slid my way down the rest of the block until I got to my car. Once in my car, I had to dry my feet and flip flops off with an old section of newspaper in my backseat.

I hate New York. I hate rain. And I especially hate New York when it’s raining.