Rain, rain, go away...

It was one of those evenings, astounding in their coincidence and simple bad luck. One of those stories where you think I'm making it up, because life doesn't really just keep going from bad to worse--but, as Murphy would probably assert (while sitting back and sipping a Tom Collins or something else smug and self-satisfied), if anything else bad can happen, it will.

We were supposed to meet for drinks in a Biergarten, in general an open-air self-service bar serving gigantic pitchers of beer and sausages and so typically German as to make tourists twitch and want to pull out the cameras--and in specific located halfway up a hill overlooking the city lights as dusk drew in around the cathedral and cobblestoned streets. Anyways, we were meeting for drinks, and had scouted out a perfect corner with an amazing view. There were just three of us; one would be coming later and one was looking for her glasses. It seemed she'd lost them somewhere, and had spent much of the afternoon retracing her steps and dismantling her bedroom in search of the wayward spectacles. So she called, she'd be late.

We ordered beer in bucket-sized glasses and discussed vacations and studies, and our glasses-less friend called to say she's giving up on the glasses and would be biking in soon. Except her bike had a flat. Meanwhile, day had given way to dusk and the opperessive heat of the evening had given way to gathering storms which were hiding about the far hills and sending out tentative bolt of flash lightning. Not good if you're sitting halfway up a hill outside. As the first drops of rain started to fall we moved to a table under a tree, but even that wasn't enough to withstand the oncoming storm. Meanwhile, our friend called back to say that, though she had pumped up the tire, it was flat again. The neighbors couldn't help her, and so she was going to get her rollerblades--in this weather!--but, on her way upstairs had managed to step on her Mp3 player. She'd still be coming, but first she needed to sit down, get herself together, and have a glass of gin.

And the skies opened up. We fled the Biergarten and hid on the covered bridge, watching the cars trail by under us and the half-naked crazy guy run around in the rain and climb the slippery steps on all fours (don't ask me, the bloke was bonkers). Tentatively, one brave dash at a time, we made it to an overfilled bar and an astoundingly empty café, where we received a final call from our erstwhile friend who would, indeed, not be coming, as it was going on half twelve and pouring sideways, insofar that the laws of physics don't prohibit it.

I pushed off about midnight, after the rain let up, and roulé-ed my way home--- to find my living room under water. About an inch or two in some places, stretching from under the half-opened window past the dinig room table. Because I definately would rather have spent my evening using my only towel to mop the lake in my apartment instead of crawling into my little sleeping bag and passing out...

how long have I
been in this storm
so overwhelmed by the ocean's shapeless form
water's getting harder to tread
with these waves crashing over my head

if I could just see you
everything will be alright
if I'd see you
the storminess will turn to light

and I will walk on water
and you will catch me if I fall
and I will get lost into your eyes
and everything will be alright
and everything will be alright

I know you didn't
bring me out here to drown
so why am I 10 feet under and upside down
barely surviving has become my purpose
cause I'm so used to living underneath the surface

if I could just see you
everything will be alright
if I see you
the storminess will turn to light

and I will walk on water
and you will catch me if I fall
and I will get lost into your eyes
and everything will be alright

and I will walk on water
you will catch me if I fall
and I will get lost into your eyes
and everything will be alright
I know everything is alright
everything's alright

--"Storm", Lifehouse