My stinkin bus leaks

It rained this morning. Not the warm spring type either, but the cold November rain-type downpour.

If using a busted umbrella wasn't bad enough, the type that flips upside down at the slightest gust, the aisle-side bus seat that I had on the way to work started taking on water that was dripping from the ceiling. "Great," I thought, as water started boring a hole into my left thigh. But through every cloud comes a ray of sunshine, so they say, and mine shone bright as a man across the aisle got up and vacated his seat just minutes into my half-hour ride.

I warned the woman next to me about the waterworks before settling into the new seat. Then I realized why the person left. It was dripping there too. Much more than the first seat. First it drip-drip-dripped into my left thigh, so I moved my backpack to cover it. Then, when the bus made a turn, the water drip-drip-dripped into my right thigh too, so I laid the backpack baby-style across my legs. By now everyone on the bus had seen me move once, and to preserve my pride and dignity I bit my lip and stayed rooted in this seat as I felt myself morphing into Keiko.

I was so mad. Getting wet in a public bus is kind of like walking the streetcar to work. It kind of defeats the purpose, doesn't it? I know that's not a fair comparison, but this wasn't a matter of water coming in the windows; it was literally raining inside the bus!

Resigned to a wet ride, and not the good kind either, I put my book away, put my MP3 player on and let K-Os take me the rest of the way to work.

I didn't take a picture of the offending water because if I had to stare at it any more than I had to I would have pulled a Magneto and busted the thing apart.