Into each life, some rain must fall. Well, we have had rain. And more rain. And more rain. In the current year, 2008, we here in Kansas City have not gone longer than nine days without some of the wet stuff falling from the sky. And I, for one, have had just about enough of it.
I would leave, but I think I might be the problem, so there would be no point. If I leave town, it will be nice here, and rain wherever I go. That's how it works. I'm not a rain goddess, I'm a disaster, like a hurricane or a tornado. Or a flood.
I have brought rain relief to drought stricken Florida. I am not kidding here, by the way. They were having a months long drought when my family went to Orlando on vacation. End of drought. Spring break has never been so damp. It was unbelievable, how much rain could come down in a week. They were talking evacuations by the time we left, so it was a good thing our time was up. On the upside, we spent a week at Disney World with almost no lines, so there is a silver lining in every cloud, I guess.
I have caused a flood, simply by planning a trip. They had record breaking rains in Hawaii when we went on our one and only trip there a couple of years ago, spring break again, and also broke the record for least sun. The precipitation started approximately 25 seconds after the non-refundable reservation went through, and kept on for a week after we got home again, just for good measure.
We went horse back riding in the rain, we went to the beach in the rain, we had an indoor luau because of the rain [the roof leaked,] we went for a submarine ride in the rain [you would think that wouldn't matter, but you have to get out to the sub somehow. Rock and roll is not a good thing in a small boat on a big ocean.] My daughter is the only kid I know who has ever been to Hawaii for a week and come home without a tan. By the time we left, they were having mudslides, and we had seen the sun approximately five minutes total. I was aggrieved to learn that it had been 75 and sunny the entire week in KC, but as I said, that's how it works.
I have heard talk that if I ever try to return, the National Guard has been ordered to stop me at the border because they cannot afford the clean up, but that might just be rumor.
I have been to Southeast Asia, and it rained there, too. That was an interesting experience, because their sanitary sewer projects have not kept pace with their undeniable economic boom. Thus, they have far more pavement than water runoff drains, which means when it rains, it floods. Everywhere. I was really glad I had gotten all my shots, because heaven only knows where that water had been before. I don't want to talk about it. I'm going to have nightmares again.
One would think, with my previous experience of never having gone on vacation in my entire life without bringing the rain, that I would always go prepared. But I am an optimist, and each time, I am just sure that this will be the time it doesn't rain. So I never have an umbrella. I have purchased umbrellas in Hawaii and Chicago, and three of them in Florida. I suspect that they mark them up when they see me coming. I am an economic boom all by myself, what with the poncho and umbrella sales I generate by my mere presence.
If you noticed a trend, we seem to travel on spring break a lot. Rest assured I am way ahead of you. I have tried to switch it up, just to fake out the rain gods, but no luck. I think they have a permanent satellite trained on me. "Uh oh, look out - she is talking to her cousin, the travel agent, now - get ready, a trip might be in the works - wait, wait, there we go - reservation made - prepare to open the heavens, here she comes - it's show time." Let the rains begin.
One of the most frightening storms I have ever been in was in Cancun, Mexico. Lovely place, normally. Or so I'm told. I had the extreme version, of course. I enjoyed a corner room overlooking the ocean. Or it would have overlooked the ocean, if only we hadn't had to have the giant wooden shutters closed the entire time, because of the Tropical Storm, 73 mph winds, that we were experiencing. The waves would lash the side of the hotel, the wind would whistle and rattle the shutters, the rain poured down, and the skies were black. Two days, we couldn't leave our building. The whole weekend trip spent in a lobby with a bunch of other disappointed tourists. All I know about Cancun is that they have smiling waiters, crabby tourists, and when they say open air lobby, you should bring rain gear during hurricane season.
For several years, I had a fear of tornadoes, which I srongly felt I had to overcome. It was hatched when I stood out on the front yard of my college trailer home one afternoon, calmly watching a funnel cloud develop. [You can just keep the white trailer trash jokes to yourself, thank you very much. I am the humorist here.] I kept calling into the mobile home to my then husband, "Someone is going to have some rough weather." Then it was, "Someone is going to have a tornado." Finally, as I saw it was heading straight for us, I yelled, "Uff da, we have to get to the shelter." Naturally, it was too late by then, so we rushed to the pole barn ag store next door and hid in their bathroom, singing "Itsy, Bitsy Spider" with Adam while the rain came down the spout. I don't like spiders either.
I decided a few years later that I simply must overcome this ridiculous fear of storms. Naturally, we were heading out on a mini-vacation at the time, driving from Memphis to New Orleans for the weekend. I cannot emphasize enough that if I were to wait for clear weather, I would simply never leave my home, because it rains wherever I go. Thus, I decided to overlook the ominous clouds that immediately began to build in the previously clear and sunny sky as I threw the hastily packed suitcase into the car.
I thought I had pulled a fast one, actually, because it was a last second decision, not something we planned and thought about. We simply tossed a few things together and took off, not even stopping for gas.
We got approximately 20 miles down the road when the tornado hit. We barely had time to pull under the overpass as that twister crossed over just above us, rain pounding so hard on the roof of the car we couldn't even hear ourselves arguing about whose fault it was that we were putting our small son in mortal danger. A few moments later, a Mississippi state trooper, [they always were the ones to be on top of everything,] drove up and motioned to us to roll our window down. He warned us that we shouldn't be on the road, as there were tornadoes in the area. Thanks.
They say that April showers bring May flowers. I don't know who got the roses, but I think I'll have to excuse myself now to go and get a thorn out of my side.
