On this lovely late summer morning, Waco, TX is by no exaggeration mirroring the scenes in Genesis of the great flood. Streets are now roaring rivers, rainboots and umbrellas abound but with no real advantage, and I’m sure almost half of the student population decided just to stay in bed. An arc like Noah’s would have actually been much more accommodating than cars, bikes, and legs today. Here are a few phrases that sum up my hilariously wet morning so far:
Coffee: A rushed 3 sips.
First class: Late.
First exam: Indifferent (more concerned with my still-drenched clothes).
Backpack and everything inside: Soaked.
Chacos: Perfectly appropriate and appreciated for jumping all those rivers on the way to class.
Umbrella: Nowhere to be found.
Borrowed “Rain”-jacket: inaccurately named.
I trekked back home after my test in my second class (I’m not going to the class that I’m an SI for since they took a test today), and I can only imagine how sad (and comical) the scene was for those in the comfort of their cars as they saw me casually trudging through six inches of water on the sidewalks with my jacket worn over my backpack, and water dripping off my hood into my face. There was nothing I could do, and complaining wouldn’t bring me closer to alleviating the unfortunate circumstances that literally poured over me.
My rain jacket is currently in the dryer on high, and after changing into something that doesn’t look like I put it on fresh out of the washer (not dryer), a big cup of coffee and a warm breakfast cookie, I might be ready to brave the elements once more on my way to my last two classes. As much as we all wish it did, a cell phone alert for flash-flooding does not take the place of an email from professors saying class is canceled. Looking at the glass half-full (or maybe more like the campus buildings half-not-flooded), days like this can be an opportunity for funny memories and good stories to tell.