The Incontinence of the Skies

The steel skies have been pouring out all its might all week. It is as though the clouds have been holding pissing contests this week; the cloud that pisses the longest and with the most “piss” wins. Hence the spectacular showers and gusts of water from the polluted seas, and the frustrating traffic jams during the early morning and late afternoon rush. Funny how the clouds have the most perfect timing that causes the greatest inconvenience to the inhabitants of the metropolis. Now, it is early morning, maybe just past midnight, and I listen to the forceful splatter of water onto plants, concrete, and steel. Some people still refer this to “it's raining cats and dogs.” Some people say that heaven is shedding copious tears, weeping over the most heartbreaking sorrows. I prefer to be a jerk and name it, “the incontinence of the skies.” 

The never ending downpour leaves umbrellas, windbreakers, closed shoes, or even vinyl raincoats useless. People get around cold and wet and miserable. Damp socks squish inside waterlogged sneakers or hammertime feet get uglier by the second in slippery flip flops meant for torrid summers. Umbrellas get broken when the owner needs it most. Windbreakers get soaked and heavy and useless. Every canopy, bus stop, waiting shed is maximized at this time, packed with people trying to wait out the fierce gusts of water and air.

Students like me look up to the heavens, imploring for the suspension of classes to buy us more time to try and catch up. We are too lazy to get up in cold, damp mornings to eat, bathe, and commute to the bestial 7 am class with an equally bestial professor. The people who are working already hopefully peek at the windows and streets for any sign of a terrible downpour that will render them stranded inside their own homes. People in the streets try to find shelter in any form, huddling against any warm and dry object, alternately praying to and cursing the heavens for the deluge that will leave them shivering and tubercular in its aftermath.

But do I hate the rain? No. It cleanses somehow, even if the water came from the largest and foulest bodies of water of the land. It nourishes the wildlife. It sweeps the waste of the urban cities into large congealed masses of garbage that block drainage systems, forcing people to clean up. This has people starting on why it is the government's fault that dirty brown floodwaters teeming with pathogens once again ruin their homes and their possessions. And I amuse myself when I hear them blame everybody else but themselves when they are guilty of flinging the plastic bags, bottles, hazardous waste, and God-knows-what in their own rubbish piles. At least, I reassure myself, we know how to cope when such things happen. 

The (insert any dirty noun here; bastard, racists, etc) in the US never knew how to deal with the Katrina disaster. The governor said, “Oh, it's just rain…” while the mayor proceeded to evacuate his immediate family to Texas while watching the poor and the blacks and the poor blacks get stranded in their homes or in the Dome with no food, water, medicine, or clothes. People there won't even help each other in the crisis, preferring to murmur, “My God, we're like in the third world already!” when their evacuation centers have gleaming floors, warm cots, and organized logistics. They feel that hustling to help is way below them, and in desperation, would turn to looting and other forms of crime to get by. People there are just so stupid to think that they can lie back and wait for the government to do everything for them; they're actually shocked that their government is unprepared. It's so tempting to say, welcome to the real world, buster. Your “third world brown brothers” have experienced such disappointments since time immemorial, we've just learned to cope with the government's shortcomings big time.

Enough of this griping. Now I think maybe this is a great time for manufacturers of diapers and pads to prove that their product really does absorb as much water as it can hold.

So maybe now the weather's turning me weird.

I love the rain.