The city is making me hate rain.
I remember walking through Prairie Farm Wisconsin, population 500, in the middle of a downpour. My hood pulled up, Walkman in my pocket, jean cuffs soaking water from the street, smelling rain on the pavement, rain on the bright green lawns, and clean lightning in the air. Beyond the feed mill and square brown shingles of Shari's Shop & Save grocery store, sheets of rain polished treetops to a forest of emerald. No matter how much of a hurry I was in, or what my prospects of dry clothes were, the drumming of sweet-tasting rain soothed me and had an ecstatic effect on my spirits. Rain was my brother, ally, and benevolent natural companion.
Cut to this morning...
The grimy wet street made me want to get back in bed as I looked out the window over breakfast. I mentally listed the things I had to look forward to:
1.Packing extra clothes, leaving less room in my bag for lunch.
2. Wet shoes all day.
3. Changing pants every time I left a building
4. Slippery spots downtown, avoiding potential crashes.
5. Being late for work.
As the list went on, it became more realistic and tolerable, so I opted to stay awake, wrap plastic bags around my feet, and ride toward the tall buildings. On the way downtown I diagnosed the rain problem. It goes beyond nostalgia for my country-boy roots. The biggest problem is that there's no dirt. In a normal hydrological system, rain hits the ground, is softened and deflected by vegetation, and soaks into the soil. Problem is, the last patch of soil in Chicago was paved over a century ago. Even if a raindrop had the luck to hit one of the grassy parks it wouldn't be guaranteed to reach the water table; the concrete goes deep around here. Diverted from its natural cycle, water runs in gutters, streets, sidewalks, and parking lots, accumulating and splashing on cars, pedestrians, and my shoes. It carries the human industrial sludge that has layered itself to to every human generated surface.
The way people move, it seems like they aren't thinking properly. It doesn't take higher-level math to see that you shouldn't drive as fast in the rain as you would in dry conditions, but this doesn't occur to anyone. Cabs peel out at intersections, BWM's franticly brake to avoid plowing through pedestrian-filled crosswalks, and buses skid on the wide painted lines that mark their lanes. It borders on divine intervention that no one is killed on a given rainy morning. It is a testament to the remaining animal reflexes in the human nervous system.
I like the rain. I am working hard to preserve our relationship, but the city is trying to come between us.
The is a number 6 in my list of things that are happening today that makes up for all of the other numbers. Tonight I am spending the evening with my girlfriend Andrea. Just last night this random woman in at the bike shop was telling me how cool Andrea is. I said, "Yes, I know." It seems like every time I meet someone who knows her they have nice things to say. She is truly exceptional.
:: Ira
11:13 AM
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