November 5(b), 2001

Dancing in a Downpour

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I pushed my chair away from my computer after a particularly tedious teleconference. I sighed and rubbed my eyes, and wandered down to a co-worker's desk to see if she was still there. She'd interrupted me while I was in the teleconference with a need to speak to me. She'd already gone home, though, by the time I could get back to her. I packed up my stuff and shut my computer down. A glance toward the windows showed darkness outside. Already? It's only 5:15. I got to the doors and saw a lot of people milling around the foyer. It was pouring absolute buckets outside. The rain was pelting the pavement so hard it bounced, and the sidewalks and road were quickly turning into fledgeling streams. I stood at the threshold, undecided. But for only a moment. "Fuck it," I thought. And stepped out into the pelting rain. I'd worn a skirt and white blouse to work today, and they became drenched in an instant. After the initial shock of cold water, I ceased to care about the condition of my hair, my clothes, my make-up. My co-workers stared as I held my arms out wide and tilted my face toward the sky. I was tempted to twirl, but some remaining reason saved me from that Sound of Music moment. I looked back to see a crowd of people grinning at me. Then, one woman stepped across the threshold into the rain. "You know?" she said. "Fuck it." She wrinkled her nose at me. More people followed her, grinning foolishly, getting expensive ties, jackets, and dresses soaked the instant they stepped away from the building. I had a long way to walk to the truck, and I took it slowly. The rain, if anything, fell harder as I walked. My shirt was soaked and sticking to my skin. My skirt became heavy and stretched fully to the ground so I had to hold it up to walk. My hair draggled in my face and strands of my bangs dripped water down onto my nose. I found puddles, and I stomped in them. On purpose. I started humming under my breath, and smiled at folks as they raced by me with bags and newspapers held over their heads. They looked a little wild-eyed at my drowned rat appearance. Or perhaps they were more worried that I wasn't worried. I was thoroughly enjoying myself. I was even caught skipping along a crosswalk as the occupants of the cars waiting for me to pass stared. I got to the truck and turned on the heat. Charming as dancing in a downpour is, it's still a cold November rain. I turned up Fleetwood Mac ("Been down one time! Been down two times!") and jammed my way home. I was perfectly happy - joyful, even - to be drenched. And when I got home, I was even happier to get out of my wet clothes and into a shower. I sit here at my desk in the bedroom now, happily listening to the rain and feeling the cool air through the open door to the patio. The dogs are begging to come in. I'm thinking of something warm to eat. I'm happy. I just had to capture that feeling.