Summer morning rain in the big city...

This morning it rained. Really hard, for a long time, without letting up. I don't really mind rain, but it does a number on the city and the people in it, who all seem to freak out and assume the end is nigh, even though it rains here pretty frequently. Also, it does make my commute to and from work much more diffficult than usual for several reasons:

1) Everyone in this city with an umbrella seems to think that he or she is Hot Stuff and can weild his or her umbrella like a deadly weapon. Apparently umbrellas exempt them from any moral culpability for poking people in the eye with their weapon's spokes, running into people because they 'didn't see them,' dumping huge amounts of water onto others, and any number of other inconceivably rude things that would NOT be ok to do if umbrellas weren't present.

2) There are about 500 of these ubmrella-toting bastards on every block.

3) It's very easy to become one of these bastards.

4) When I suppress the urge to be a bastard, I tend to get very grumpy.

5) No matter what the umbrella situation, I always end up wet from the knee down at least, because cars go by and splash me, umbrellas, bags, and awnings drip on me, and the sidewalks are never, EVER, even, leading to unexpected puddles.

So, when I got to the train this morning, I was already cheesed because my sandals were filled with water, my hems were soaked, and I had been poked and annoyed by at least 2,500 umbrellas already. But I was willing to try out a good mood. I was giving it the old college try.

And then, at 125th Street, this lady got into my car, which was not particularly crowded. I was standing in the little nook and leaning on the door, minding my business and listening to my iPod. This lady, I must admit, looked a little old and a little white to be getting on the train at 125th and Lex, and I assumed at first that she was just frazzled by the rain and all the people and the fact that she wasn't in her comfortable upper west side 3 bedroom rent controlled apartment. So I tried to give her a little slack when she walked directly up to me, then pivoted to stand facing away with her back literally less than 6 inches from me.

I let it slide for a few seconds, thinking maybe she'd assumed the car was way more crowded than it was and overcompensated, but would soon move out of my personal space when she realized her mistake. But she didn't. She just stood there, her hair practically in my mouth, not seeming to notice that the other people in the car all had a good foot of personal bubble surrounding them while I had virtually none. Even though I could have breathed on the back of her weird neck.

As the train continued hurtling through the tunnels, this woman swayed back and forth with its motion, her upper body in general getting closer and closer to me. I was getting extremely uncomfortable, and she seemed oblivious to my discomfort--to my presence entirely. I cleared my throat loudly. Nothing. I moved around, shuffling and moving my arms sufficiently to be certain she could see me in her peripheral vision. No response. I allowed my dripping umbrella, which was dangling from my hand and thus will tell you how close she was to me, to touch the back of her leg so that it dripped down into her pink galosh. No movement whatsoever. When we went around a turn and her hair literally touched my face as she swayed backward, I let a "Jesus CHRIST!" slip from my mouth. I didn't yell it, but I sure said it loud enough for her to hear me and move away. But she didn't. Just stood right there, being in my way, being way too close to me, and being oblivious or willfully ignorant.

Anyone who knows me will tell you that I don't like my personal space being invaded by strangers, much less in situations where it's completely unecessary. I wanted to take my drippy umbrella and smack her, hard, in the back of the knees with it. Or scream "Get away from me you creepy bitch!" But I kept it under control. Almost. I noticed a lot of people nearby watching me intently and realized I was giving her the Level 10 Death Look. Let me tell you - this is not a look you ever want to see coming from me. It means doom is coming for YOU.

Anyway, she moved away from me - far away - at the next stop, so maybe she got the vibes of pure unadulterated hatred I was sending her way from ~4 inches behind her head.

I made it to work on time and with little more in the way of incidents, still kind of wet and annoyed, but figuring I had a pretty good "Rainy-Day-Weirdo" story to share with the coworkers.

...until two of those coworkers got of the elevator and said they'd just been in there with a woman who was wearing a WWII style, two-oxygen filters, full-on gas mask.

Ah well, you can't win them all.