As everyone files off the train at Canal Street, all that is visible is a flurry of hands reaching into handbags and briefcases, pulling out umbrellas of all sorts. Commuter's then pop their head above ground, and up go the umbrella's.
Most people's stomach's would be churning with worry at this point, but I was feeling good about the strength and positioning of my umbrella. You learn very quickly that strength and positioning is what it's all about. You have to hold it out in front of you, blocking any line of sight, in an attempt to get through the insanity of the wind smacking you face first. I felt like somebody had hit slow-mode on the TV, and as I looked around, even the strongest specimens were struggling to walk against THIS wind.
It is only three blocks to work, and I was armed with my $12 hot pink umbrella from Duane Reade; guaranteed to never fly inside out. How wrong this guarantee was.
The wind was enough to piss off anyone. But as I watched one umbrella after the next, flip inside out, I couldn't help but laugh to myself under my trust worthy shelter. Every where I looked, people were battling with umbrella's while getting absolutely drenched!
People do one of two things when they are caught like this; fight to the death with their dead umbrella, or smash it up against the trash can in frustration, that it not only let them down, attempting to fulfill its only purpose in life (to keep people dry), but it also just humiliated the crap out of them.
On the third day of witnessing the same thing over and over, I got to thinking about the purpose of umbrella's in this crazy city. Even with my lifetime guarantee to never flip inside out, my umbrella did just that! The wind was so extreme that I couldn't close it, or flip it back again, and there I was, walking through the streets of Soho, fighting like an idiot with my hot pink, inside out umbrella.
The point of an umbrella in NYC is....nothing at all! Keep it at home where it will be safe!
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