A Soggy Afternoon
It was overcast and dim that day. Rain fell from the sky, heavy and steady. I stood beside my car, filling up the gas tank under the protective canopy of a filling station.
I glanced out to the flooded street. The water flowed almost to the top of the curb. It seemed it would soon overtake the sidewalk to make it part of the river that was formerly known as Burbank Boulevard.
Cars passed by, hissing down the wet street, water rooster tailing from behind. From time to time, as the lights changed, a car would slide to a stop after hydroplaning for 10 or 20 feet.
As I stood, observing all of this, I noticed a small woman across the street. She was wearing a white skirt and suit coat, nylons and white high-heeled shoes. Her only shelter was her black umbrella, which stood out against her bright attire.
I couldn’t help but watch her as she walked down the flowing street. She looked out of place and her clothing was completely at odds with common sense.
“What is she thinking?” I muttered to myself as I watched her walk, slowly, down the street.
It was about this time when the first cataclysmic event happened to her. A car drove by, near to the curb causing a wave of water to rush up over the sidewalk. She hollered as the water hit her, soaking her to her skin.
She was no longer wearing white.
Her recovery time was slow - too slow, in fact. For, just as she realized what had happened, another car drove past, drenching her in another wave of dirty water.
Her white outfit was now a deep gray. Her shoes, too, were gray and dirty. And, her umbrella, well, what was left of it, was largely useless.
Irate, she began waving her fist and hurling epithets, cursing at the driver of the vehicle that had the audacity to drench her. And then, shaking her fist, she began running towards the car as it slowed at the intersection.
Just as she got close enough to the car to almost touch it, the driver turned his car to make his way up the street. And, as she continued to wave her fist and holler at the disappearing vehicle, another car passed, encasing her in another tidal wave of water.
I never moved from my car. I just watched, stunned at the woman and her amazing stupidity. What was she thinking?
Finally, my tank was full. I got into my car and turned the key, bringing the engine to life. As I pulled out of the gas station and made a quick left hand turn onto Burbank Boulevard, I realized that would soon be passing the soggy and irate woman.
A wave of water rushed from my car as I passed by her soggy form. Of course, she was still shaking her fists and screaming. I miagine that her ire was directed at me, the latest in her string of attackers. But what was I to do? I certainly was not going to stop and try to help or let her into my car - she was soaking wet and pissed.
As I continued down the road I glanced into my rear view mirror, watching her grow ever smaller and greyer. And, as I continued on down the road, I thought to myself, “What is she thinking, wearing white after labor-day?”
