Quickly: so yeah everyone knows it’s been raining forever (finally the weather pessimists are patting themselves on the back), and I’ve always been cheap with umbrella-purchases cause I constantly leave them places, whathaveyou, so I’m walking two feet to the subway on Sunday afternoon, holding one of those bodega-umbrellas that are three-dollars and made of tissue-paper, needless to say I had bad moment when a gust of wind came, it got ugly, I was super-embarrassed, of course, some old man shouted, “There she goes!” etc, etc.
And I’m sitting on the subway in wet shoes, fallen soldier in hand, looking from passenger to passenger: not at their faces (no I’m too ashamed), or at their probably-similarly-wet shoes, but at their umbrellas. Gosh, they all look so strong, so impressive, whoa a wooden handle, that can only mean one thing: stability, safety, hope, and at that moment, oh boy, I felt the most potent umbrella-envy I’ve ever experienced, perhaps that I’ll ever experience (nope, I didn’t go out and my a super-industrial-model the next day, but I did take one from my boyfriend, and it has a wooden handle,). Booyah! Goodnight.