San Francisco has had more rain this week alone than it did during the entirety of 2013. This much-needed turn in the weather has brought both a tiny parade of ants to my bathroom and a larger parade of people I know who assume they can just wedge themselves underneath my umbrella whenever we head out to walk somewhere when it’s raining.
I take a weird amount of joy in being prepared for the rain, amassing an arsenal of Hunter boots, a long waxed-canvas jacket, and one of those clear, bubbly umbrellas that you can pull down all the way to your scalp and still see the crosswalk signals. God, my coziness spikes to fort-with-Christmas-lights levels while walking in a storm with just the four inches below my knees left unprotected. There is an expectation, though (I blame Rihanna), that being ready for the weather is a community service. It’s not, but even if it were, “sharing” an umbrella just DOESN’T WORK, and here’s why:
Height problems
I’m 5'3". Anyone taller than that who wants to share my umbrella is basically saying, “Hey, so I’m just gonna take this, but bonus! I’ll also walk uncomfortably close to you all the way to our destination.” Umbrellas are all about proximity. Even with some light crouching to humor me, the canopy ends up hovering so far above my head that it offers no protection, sending my temperamental bangs into a poofy, wing-tipped frenzy.
And stubbornly holding it myself when sharing it with a tall person isn’t better. Forcing them to actually crouch to a compromised height while trying to keep in lock step is like turning us into a couple of bumbling idiot moths trapped under a shot glass. I end up hitting them in the head with it so many times that they get frustrated with me.
No one wins
Even if the share-ee is of a compatible height, the wind isn’t turning it into an eye-poking machine, and we’re able to synchronize our steps with the diligence of a metronome, WHAT’S THE POINT? Great. We’ve each gotten one dry elbow out of the deal, at the expense of our outer shoulders and butts, which are directly underneath the steady stream of runoff.
I’ve earned it
The joy of rain preparedness comes with a price. Having an umbrella breaks down to 6% cozy sanctuary, 94% having to tote a wet pole around all day. All my anti-umbrella friends share the same reason for not having their own: they just hate carrying things! Yet they also hate getting wet. Of course, I don’t enjoy having to hold an umbrella at a bar or living with the paranoia that someone is treating the umbrella collection bucket at the front of stores like it’s a take-a-penny-leave-a-penny jar. While you enjoyed a light, burden-free day, I was having sudden bolts of panic that I’d forgotten my umbrella on the bus or under a restaurant table. Don’t expect to share (ruin, really) the one moment that makes it all worth it.
I used to deal with those umbrella-sharing moments by just telling the person to take it completely. I’d rather be wet than fumble down the street in double the time. NOT ANYMORE. This weather isn’t unexpected. It’s been raining for DAYS. If you have a smartphone, I don’t have sympathy. This week, I’ve just started telling people, “Yeah, I don’t share umbrellas.” Seeing someone get rained on through the plastic of my dry fortress is a little hard to watch. But not that hard.
