The Rain

Story starts with long standing plans to go gallery hopping with a friend, thwarted by rain the second we headed out. Quell suprise. Why stop for rain? Oh, your obviously not from New York, if you were asking that. In NY, you see where going out in the rain is an acrobatic feat necessitating arm strength (for holding the umbrella perpendicularly for extending periods of time, raising and lowering as people bump past you, and competing with the wind), stamina, and sheer athleticism (for jumping over lakes mislabeled puddles and jocking for position in the few shallow spots). So, forgoing the wet crowded outdoor gymnasium, we opted to have coffee and lunch in Brooklyn, where the greatest hazard was huge upsplahes from the passing cars (totally foreseable, and therefore manageable).
We ended up dining at the fantastic French restaurant, where the proprietor came up to us and asked if we had heard the story of the women and the python. Of course, we affirmed. "It vas me!' She exclaimed and proceeded to tell us how every city agency thought she was crazy and refused to help. Finally her ex-husband posted the event on Bong, the media got hold of the story and showed up in time to see her, her current husband and plumber sawing apart the toilet and extracting the seven foot python. What an unexpected lunch story....