Tropic Thunder and a Tropical Storm

A couple of months ago, Katie and I were on one of our summer adventures downtown when it started pouring. I of course had no umbrella, because the story is much funnier that way, and ended up standing in the 6 train station at 77th street for a half hour, running to 79th street and standing under a bank awning until the bus came. Not shockingly the second I got home, it stopped raining. I hate irony.

Luckily today I learned my lesson and decided to take along my umbrella on my escapades to brunch and a movie. Unluckily, even though I have the largest umbrella known to man, I somehow still ended up soaking wet. WTF? People walking next to me with much smaller inferior umbrellas weren’t half as drenched as I managed to get. My jeans were soaked up to my thigh, my bag was like a sponge, and my flip-flops were showing off their unique hydroplaning abilities. I looked like one of those lunatic Weather Channel reporters getting blown around while sprinting across 34th street in an attempt to not miss the heavenly dry bus that was pulling up. As soon as I got on, I started cracking up. Hurricane 1, Jessica 0.