Last week the floods poured forth and we had the best garden-drenching downpours for about three days.
The only crappy part was that I had to go to school on all three of those days. The biggest issue with torrential rain, is, of course, torrential frizz. (Stupid frizz.) I woke up, already running twenty minutes late, with my hair running away from my head in all the cardinal directions, and knew that, at last, my favorite little city was getting some precipitation.
I leapt out of bed, accidentally dumping doggie in the floor in my haste (stupid dog.), and promptly cracked my shin into various and sundry fractures on the bottom of our bed post. (Stupid bedpost.)
Another twenty-eight minutes later and I was pulling on to campus, at this spot I know that usually has open meters. The catch, of course (stupid catch.), is that these meters are for precisely one hour of time, whereas my class is, of course, for one hour and fifteen minutes. Now I have three options: 1) arrive late, skip the first fifteen of class, 2) leave in the middle of class to feed the meter, or 3) leave class early. Now, why, you ask, don't I add option 4) park elsewhere, and if you asked that question, you've never gone to a university before. There is bupkis for parking. People park in spaces that tricycles couldn't fit into...much less actual spaces for normal-sized vehicles.
So I find an empty meter and pull in, just as the meter maid slowly drives up next to me, mean mugging and eyeballing my meter, hovering close by, in case I should possess the audacity to run to class without first paying the (stupid) meter. She was also seeking to ticket those meters around me that had already expired. I glared back at her and snapped my umbrella open, making it look as menacing as opening an umbrella can look. She rolled her eyes at me. I sneered at her and stalked off, stepping into an ankle-deep puddle as I did so. (Stupid puddle.)
As my class began winding down to the last twenty minutes, I started getting nervous. When was the evil harpy meter-witch going to circle around again to check the meters? I started to sweat. The class was taking too long, and the teacher just kept talking...droning on and on about nothing. I started tapping my foot, glancing at my watch. I packed up my books, zipping my bag loudly, hoping the teacher would get the hint. She didn't.
So at exactly one hour, fifteen minutes, the class was concluded, and I shot out the door, pushing past all the gabbing bystanders in my way. (Stupid bystanders.)
I raced out the front doors, into the still falling rain and toward the hill. My cellphone began to vibrate. It was Kev, "Hey babe. How was class?" he asked me. Just then, from my view point at the top of "Cardiac Hill" I saw Meter Witch turning onto the street where I was parked, my meter surely expired. "Gotta run," I panted out, jamming my phone into my pocket, snapping shut my umbrella and hauling arse toward my car. I splashed through mini-rivers, the rain pelting me from every direction. I became angrier and angrier with each fat droplet of water that touched me. As I reached the bottom of the hill only eighteen feet away from my vehicle, she pulled up next to my car and hopped out, evil ticket-writing gear at the ready. I knew something had to be done immediately.
In one split second, I decided that, as when you are in the wild, and confronted by wildlife of the sort that you'd rather not be confronted with, you should wave your arms, make menacing noises and appear larger than you really are. I chose that same tactic and employed it with gusto.
I yelled, "Hey!", and waved my arms frantically, all the time still bearing down on her like a steam locomotive.
I must say, I am sure that I looked like something unholy, racing toward her with water flying out around me, my hair like something seen in an Amazonian tribe, nostrils flaring, all mascara having long since deserted my lashes for the prime locale of my chin, and brandishing my umbrella like an assault weapon.
But no matter. Whatever it was about the astonishing sight of my person, she stood gawking at me long enough for me to rush up, and with two clicks of the remote, unlock my car, heave my stuff in and sneer at her again. She glared at me and sauntered slowly back to her car (calling her flying monkeys off as she went).
Once we were both behind our respective steering wheels, I glanced over at her again, she mouthed, "Next time".
I grinned, looked straight ahead, and started my car.
