|The "oop" is because Sumi, who's wearing the hat (I wore contacts), looks 234890 times more gorgeous in real life (I need to work on my doodling skills).|
At first, it went pretty well. The sun was shining, the weather was warm but not too warm, and I didn't get hit by a car (I'm a terrible pedestrian). Plus, I was walking with Sumi, which made the trip a highlight by default because Sumi is a lovely person to talk to and really just a lovely person in general.
Because food is delicious and nutritious, we stocked up our cart with fruits, and vegetables, and milk and yogurt and string cheese, and spaghetti, and flour and sugar and vanilla extract for churros (yes, we decided to make churros) ((and yes, this is a grammatically terrible sentence)).
|Food, glorious food! (Hot sausage and mustard?)|
We basically swiped the equivalent of my first paycheck into the grocery cash register thing, I double-slash-triple bagged our stuff, and we wheeled over to the door and
turned around, because it was raining.
In The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy**, there is a man who has recorded two hundred and thirty-one types of rain. For the record, I enjoy/don't mind most of them, including breezy droplets (#11), vertical light drizzle (#47), sharply slanting light to moderate drizzle freshening (#51), and even #87 and #88, which are two finely distinguished varieties of vertical torrential downpour.
You get the point. I'm generally on pretty good terms with rain, and I usually don't mind walking around in it. But let me tell you, this wasn't a #11 or a #51 or even a #88. This was in the range of #192 to #213, which are the seastorm types, the types too stormy for me to even attempt doodling. It was pouring like Life of Pi out there, and Sumi and I looked at the sky and were like,
nope nope nope nope nope.
So we waited for the rain to stop, and I doodled, and we did the twenty-first century equivalent of twiddling our thumbs, which is tapping them around on Snapchat to produce shaky videos with subtitles that you can't left-align. The rain finally slowed to a drizzle, and we headed out with bags covering our arms like pigeons and a gallon of milk plus other rather large items stuffed in my backpack.
But it turns out the drizzle was temporary, because the sky went all #213 on us less than forty-two paces after our departure. Sumi and I were not happy campers, but we trudged out past the gas station and down a couple blocks anyway.
And then we came to the corner.
Maybe this is a Baltimore thing, but for some reason, an inordinate amount of pipes happened to direct water out onto this corner, and the velocity at which the storm was racing out of those pipes and onto the street was actually kind of terrifying.
Repeat: I have no words (or doodles) to describe the magnitude of the currents gushing out of the pipes of that Baltimore street. I thought about walking sideways to avoid getting swept away, like you're supposed to do with riptides, but eventually Sumi and I found a less violent area of street and waded across, water to our ankles.
A car rolled by, creating a breaking wave that would've been great to surf on. We approached another crosswalk that had basically turned into a lake.
|Throwback to when I thought our campus had bad flooding.|
Okay, maybe it wasn't that bad. I was mostly worried about the flour, because no amount of extra bagging was going to shield it from the wrath of the rain, and I really wanted to make those churros. But still, Sumi and I were laughing, and not in a "this is amazing" sort of way--more of an extremely disheartened, soaking wet, "why us" sort of way.
Anyway, we eventually made it back, and it turned out the flour was actually okay (props to the art of triple-bagging and the underestimated durability of the reusable shopping bag I put the bagged flour in for extra protection), and we got to make those churros after all and they were actually pretty good. But it was definitely a wild adventure, which is why I decided to tell it. (Yay for wild adventures!)
And so, with laughter (at our soaked shoes) and love (for the power of triple-bagging), the flour and Sumi and I lived happily ever after.
*For good reason. This apartment-house-suite is basically the reason college costs $893204231 and it puts my future closet-sized dwellings (when I actually have to pay rent) to shame (too bad money doesn't grow on trees).
**The series, not the first book. Said man appears in the early pages of So Long, and Thanks for All the Fish, which is number four.