Mar 26: Rain Lessons

Even in paradise, some rain must fall. Good thing too. Here in the subtropics, those rainstorms mixed among the sunny days keep us green and lush. We get some great cloudbursts in South Florida, wonderful thunder-and-lightning shows that come and go along with the intense rains. So you'd think after almost two decades in Fort Lauderdale that I'd know something about keeping dry during these intermittent downpours. Wrong. To explain, I have to take us back a few days.

See, we've enjoyed a gorgeous winter and spring this year, unusually dry even for our dry season. The sky is a lovely blue as I write this. But last Saturday brought much-needed moisture. Maybe I forgot how to use an umbrella properly during the past several months. I dunno. But I sure must have looked like a nitwit when I stopped for gasoline in the midst of Saturday's rain.

I pulled up to a gas pump that I thought was fully covered by a roof. That was the first less-than-smart move. Because yes, some pumps indeed were covered. And some were only partly covered, as I'd soon discover. I could hear rain just pounding against my convertible top when I turned off the engine. "Man, it's really pouring right now," I thought.

I grabbed an umbrella I hadn't used since, like, November and prepared for a quick dart from my car. I cracked the door, opened the umbrella, stepped out and slammed the door shut. So far, so good. Hmm, it wasn't raining as hard as I'd thought. I started filling up my tank, then realized I'd parked under a rainspout on the roof - a spout that now emptied a small waterfall directly over my driver side door. So I'm kinda going, "Hey, whatever," as I finished up, grabbed a receipt and ... Another big, "Hmmmm." Two thoughts flitted through my head at this moment. Number one: "Maybe I should climb in on the passenger side." Number two: "Hey, I made it out without getting very wet. I should be able to hop back in the same way. Right?"

Ok, here's the small life lesson I learned - getting into a car with an umbrella is more cumbersome than getting out. A LOT more cumbersome. Duh! I opened the door, jumped inside and the waterfall jumped in with me. There I was, frantically trying to shut an umbrella that only wanted to get snagged on my car top over and over. My driver's seat was soaked. My clothes dripped as if I'd taken a shower. My glasses were so beaded with water I couldn't see. It must have given a good laugh to anyone who watched me pull this stunt. As I said, wouldn't you think I could handle an umbrella by now? I offer this little tale for any reader who may imagine that my tropical writer's life is somehow ideal. Sure, it has lots of great moments. No complaints. But even South Florida is no protection when your inner knucklehead is determined to get out.