Tuesday, September 25, 2012

A Less Poetic Take on the Rain

It rained last night.
I love rainy nights. But I'm not going to elaborate on that part right now. We've all read more than enough poetic musings about the beauty and cleansing feeling of a rainstorm OKAY I'm done. 

I keep my bike outside. This means that when it rains, my bike gets wet. And the seat absorbs all kinds o' nasty water. 
I guess I should also mention that I ride my bike to school every day. 
So this morning, when I went out to my trusty bicycle, I brushed some visible water droplets off the seat, assuming this would be the extent of my troubles.

This is what the fates were doing at that moment:

(just the laughing part. Those fates are jerks).

When I sat down, I discovered there was much more water than I had supposed, hidden in the depths of that "tiny" bike seat. It immediately soaked my pants in a very inconvenient area. Of course, I was running late (pretty normal for me I'd say). No time to do anything but deal with it.

I sped to school, of course sweaty and panting by the time I reached the bike rack. As I stepped off that two-wheeled contraption my worst fears were confirmed. You know when you can just tell how bad something is? I could feel the looks immediately. In that moment, I had a decision to make.

Do I get back on my bike and go home, change my pants, and drive to school?
Nah, class is more important than 3 minutes of dignity.

Do I go into the bathroom and attempt to dry my pants with a hand dryer?
This could potentially be more embarrassing than half the school thinking I have a bladder control problem.

Bladder control problem . . . play the sympathy card? Every time someone looks at me I could say "I'M SORRY BODY DOESN'T WORK LIKE YOURS, OKAY?!"
I seriously considered this one. You think I'm joking . . . and you're right.

So I went for the fourth and final option: wear it with pride. Strut my stuff. Walk the walk like a girl with nothing to prove. I don't know if I successfully accomplished this, but I at least attempted.
I walked at my usual "madwoman-on-a-schedule" pace, attempting to have that look on my face that says "WHAT, YOU GOT A PROBLEM?"
Who knows if it worked. I still felt a few weird looks, even heard a whisper (that probably wasn't about me but you know how when you're paranoid about what people are thinking about you it suddenly seems like everyone is staring and whispering and laughing at you so you're freaking out even more and then you get into these crazy run-on sentences while trying to explain your mind to everyone else, which was a bad idea from the beginning?) yeah.

Embarrassing experience most-likely-successfully OWNED.

I think I still love rainy nights, even.


  1. Aubrey, you are a hero. And I know your pain. There is a bathroom in the Richards building with sinks conveniently shaped to divert water flow directly towards the user. And they're down low. And the taps are, shall we say, enthusiastic. Not only have I had to "strut my stuff" twice now, I've seen at least three other girls in that hallway with the same problem.