Umbro

Yesterday's storm claimed another cheap umbrella's life. The west side of Manhattan always seems windier than the east, and I struggled to keep the umbrella from turning inside-out like a satellite-dish as I walked towards John Jay on 10th ave.

We wrestled across the avenues and I got to feel stupid and look stupid as the umbrella repeatedly turned satellite-dish on me. But then I found the perfect anti-wrestling angle - holding the umbrella in front of me at a 45 degree angle, walking into the storm with the umbrella shielding me perfectly. Nice. The umbrella wouldn't have it though. It rebelled and it was so filled with rage that I seriously thought it would collapse inward and trap my upper body inside. For the first time ever I realized that I was actually scared of an umbrella, afraid. The umbrella had to go.

Sun's out today.