Since 24 of the last 26 days in the city, we have seen rain, I have been reflecting on my altered relationship with the umbrella. Living in Atlanta, I had one umbrella. It was a nice one, Burberry or something. Very stylish, and I had it for years. That is all I needed. If the rain caught me without my trusty umbrella, at most all I had to do was dash to the car and get a little wet. In fact, if I threw on a coat, most days I didn't even need my umbrella.
Needless to say, New York is different. Because of the time and effort it takes to get around the City, I have to plan all my needs for an entire day before heading out the door. This includes financial, social, work, and home life needs. I have to carry the resulting physical manifestation of those needs in my arms or in my city bag (the proper city bag being whole other post)in the form of wallets/checkbooks, items for going out, shopping lists, work-out clothes, shoe changes, etc., etc. Such planning also requires reviewing the weather forecast before leaving my home, and such review usually includes the handy "hour-by-hour" review, because in New York, the hour the rain starts can determine my plan (and the crap I have to carry around) for the entire day. A 2:00 pm downpour means I may not have to lug the umbrella around all day because I am will be at work. An 8 am or 5 pm prediction of rain means bring the Totes.
In New York, I have not one but numerous umbrellas. Getting stuck in a downpour here can mean wet clothes for the day. As a result, I have umbrellas in many sizes, often tucked in different bags, with extras stored at work. I have extra umbrellas for out- of-town guests, who inevitably show up without thinking to pack them. I have small umbrellas for when the forecast is uncertain, and large ones for when it says the rain will fall throughout the day.
I cannot get too attached to one umbrella, nor spend too much money on any one of them, because I must also consider them completely disposable. I have already left at least a dozen umbrellas (including the long-lost Burberry) at different restaurants, museums or bars, having needed them going in, but forgotten them on the way out when the clouds have cleared. If I leave one in the handy containers offered by most establishments at the entrance, I might as well count it as gone, as New Yorkers treat those containers like a sample sale, grabbing whichever one fits their fancy on the way out the door. Most times, it is not a "one for one" switch out.
Like so many things that change when you move to New York (such as personal space), my relationship with the simple umbrella has undergone a drastic reassessment. It has both increased in importance while decreasing in my attachment to any one of them.
Sort of like my dollar bills....
