The Most is Always Said With Nothing

The rain decided to disfigure my ego yesterday. We stepped off the shuttle like confident misfits; seven of us on our way to Brewers Art. At that moment, the rain mounted its most violent attack. Pedro pulled out his blue and white umbrella, and grinned like the Cheshire cat. Xena immediately produced a bluest canopy as well. Then there was me, in pale pink and avian glory, about to be dragged away by this wet overlord who decided to step out of the sky. Then Mauricio upon noticing my distress handed me a stout blue umbrella, and I began to furiously unlock it. I shook it with all my might -- but nothing.

"It's a bit broken." Says Mauricio........."oh wonderful."

By now my frame was intoxicated by the translucent ale from sky, and realizing that I was essentially as good as three sheets to the wind, I returned the broken umbrella to Mauricio.

"I'm already wet." Said I.

Then came Andres, bearded, tall and unassuming with a barely unoccupied umbrella. Realizing that all was lost for my skin, but there was hope for my organs, I dashed for cover under his canopy.

And thus we trekked along Mount Vernon, over the slick pavement, and across the flooded streets where warm summer rivers washed our feet. With every step the rain became even heavier, and we became resigned to our fates. I wondered if Brewers would let a pack of wet chickens enter their bar.

Thank God for Andres' umbrella or else my nook would've been drenched.

Up ahead was the Subway where Beta was waiting for us. Its long, protruding, green awning gave us some reprieve. Andres went in to find Beta.

Curious thing: there is Subway on every other block in Mt. Vernon.

Pedro appeared out of nowhere, barely wet and still grinning like the Cheshire kitten.

"Were you all waiting for me? You didn't have to." mouthed Pedro.

"What were you doing?" Asked Mauricio.

Pedro shook his head for a bit, in the characteristic Pedro way when thinking and said: "I was buying birthday presents for Beta and Andres."

So we left it at that.

Only 2 miles more to Brewers. Like silent soldiers, Andres and I pushed on through the hopeless battle against that sky. Mauricio, being the aquatic animal he is, triumphantly walked without cover. He was clearly the mole planted by the Rain Overlord.

Brewers came into sight about an hour or so later. My fear of the rain was slowly beginning to be replaced by the fear of the cold air Brewers is surely have blasting in its gut.

I expressed this fear to Andres and being the word-smith he is, he said nothing.

The most is always said with nothing.

I worry too much.