Your Huge F'ing Umbrella Cannot Block Out My Rage

Living and working in the city provides many opportunities for the possibility of injury: An irate cabbie, a vulgar homeless person, an eight year-old girl who "want(s) ice cream NOW," etc. However the only time I fear for my life when I leave my apartment is when it’s raining. Now get me straight, I’m not afraid of the natural elements of rain; thunder claps don’t scare me, I don’t have astraphobia (fear of being struck by lightning), and I know for a fact that I won’t melt. I’m afraid of the umbrellas that people walk around with IN THE CITY.

Folks, listen up…you are not GOLFING today. You’re getting on the most convenient mode of public transportation that you have access to like you’re about to hit the back nine in a summer shower. Are you f-ing KIDDING me? Why are you walking down a crowded sidewalk at the 8:30 a.m. pedestrian rush hour like your caddy is right behind you? There is only one of you under that beast. And you take up the whole sidewalk. Oh sure, I’d love to side step into this puddle on the street and get run over by a bus so that you can walk down the sidewalk with your deluxe 60" umbrella.

When the rain stops, I momentarily thank the clouds above for parting until I remember that these huge bitches don’t disappear, they become brightly colored devices that can (and will) impale me. People must realize what a hassle these abominations are once they’re not in use because they will do anything in their power to keep them as far away from their body as possible.

"No, your golf umbrella will not fit into your oversized purse."
"What’s that? You have a new cane to smoosh people’s toes with?"
"Excuse me, I can’t get past you while you’re violently swinging your arm with that three foot weapon you have there."

Seriously, assholes. Leave the golf umbrellas on the course and use a soggy newspaper like the rest of us.