Have you heard the joke about Seattle that goes, “I visited Seattle for two weeks and it only rained twice – once for 10 days and once for four days.” Since November, I think that’s been pretty accurate. My rain garden should be super happy right about now.

The funny thing is, looking around the bus, very few people are dressed for rain. They’re all going to work, wearing business or business casual attire, with nice shoes and no Gore Tex to be seen. Newcomers here think we don’t go in for umbrellas, but every single person in line at my bus stop had one. In short, taking away the dark gray, soggy exterior, the people on my bus could be commuting in San Francisco or New York (although I’d expect more overcoats, scarfs, and gloves for the latter).

I, on the other hand, am absolutely a product of my environment. I’m in a neon pink waterproof bike jacket, weather my work clothes beneath — but I chose synthetic black pants that push the limits of our dress code because they dry out quickly. I’ve got on booties, gloves, and ear covers. As a bicycle commuter, I think I may experience the weather more directly that any other commuters (unless someone walks, I suppose — boy would that be nice, close enough to walk to work). Even waiting at a bus stop in the rain, while wet, doesn’t involve being out in the weather for as long and intensely as I am when commuting.

Hence the bizarre gear.

Indeed, I’m one of those things that is not like the others today. Actually, that’s true every day. I’m not good at fitting in, especially regarding clothes and appearance.

That’s okay. My clothes remain functional and within acceptable parameters.

Now it’s time to go back out into the soaking wet. If you don’t hear from me again, over probably grown gills and turned into a fish.