I have an enduring memory of walking down Kent St, in the Sydney CBD, on a blustery day. It was raining lightly, and I had borrowed a bright orange, transparent umbrella. All of a sudden, a gust of wind caught me off guard and the umbrella was inside-out. We struggled against the wind, this umbrella and I, to and fro, and every time I managed to set it right, it was blown inside out again. Eventually, one of the umbrella's arms snapped and I abandoned it in a rage.
Of course, to deal with a willful umbrella is one thing, but it's another matter when surrounded by people making their morning commute. They avoid you like they avoid the guy talking to himself on the train. They have to skirt around you, lest they lose an eye. They pity you.
I bought my new umbrella out of desperation, in an unexpected downpour. I can only bring myself use it occasionally, when the wind seems calm. I still get that nauseating rush of nervous energy, when I feel the wind tugging at the umbrella. I usually prefer to leave it hanging safely in the hallway, and take my chances alone, against the elements.
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