If you happened to look or be outside in the past ten minutes on the small island of Manhattan, you would have seen what meteorologists are scrambling to label “the most polite rainstorm of all time”. In the time it takes for a crosstown bus to go one avenue block, the rainstorm dripped and simpered its way from New Jersey to Long Island, muttering all the way about appointments it must keep and simply being stretched too thin these days.
New Yorkers with the vantage point of a high rise office were annoyed to see what promised to be a threatening advance of precipitation in the air at roughly 3:30 PM. Turning away from the droplet-streaked window, they only had enough time to place the call to their secretaries to secure them one of those nice golf umbrellas from the Brookstones downstairs. Turning back to the window, many a high-powered Manhattan drone was then surprised to see the sun’s annoyed countenance, having thought it had long enough to nip round to the local for a pint and being called abruptly back to duty.
The rainstorm, meanwhile, displayed very little zest for its job, and was heard shamefacedly saying, “I’m so sorry, pardon me, I’ve just got to – oh, you’re there? So sorry again, I – well, ooh, there you go, I’ll just slip right by without – OH! Sorry.” Many pedestrians noticed that the rain kindly fell around them, leaving them mostly dry and humbly begged their forgiveness, as it shuffled embarassedly through the bustling city.
While the Rainstorm Union couldn’t be reached for official comment at press time, several unconfirmed sources say that the mighty and powerful movers and shakers in the rainstorm world are “embarassed” and “humiliated” by the accomodating appearance of their usually fierce presence. A few old-time tropical storms were more than willing to shake their heads violently and call this a “truly tragic moment” for their illustrious organization and blame the “touchy feely vibes” among younger, more innovative members. “In my day, you battered, you broke, you didn’t saunter,” said one member who wore the golden badge of the Broken Umbrella, the most coveted award in the Union. Press reps, off the record, insist this has absolutely nothing to do with recent cost-analysis ratios that rocked the weather-making world recently, calling today’s rainstorm a “disgrace” to what is still a “powerful landmark of New York life”.
The soft-spoken rainstorm, however, insisted that it had someplace very important to be and hadn’t meant to rain across the often-soaked buildings of New York (it also made veiled references to construction on the Triboro and wordlessly indicting an election-year Mayor) . “I’m quite fearsome, really, but Manhattan isn’t my zone,” it mumbled. It also insisted it was “just listening to my iPod, you know? I didn’t even notice I was raining, honest.” Expounding on the myth of rain’s constant fierceness, the storm insisted that sometimes, it’s just a little rain, nothing to ruin anyone’s good time. “It’s just such a cliche,” it complained, “rainy days and Mondays, you know? I went to Hampshire. We learned to think outside the box.”
No word yet on whether more powerful rainstorms will be attempting to regain the populace’s fear and respect (and the industry’s top Broken Umbrella Award) during their weekly showing on Wednesday. Whispering its last comment, the nameless press rep for the RU said, “it’s April, you know? We’ve got an image to maintain here.”