My legs ached and shook quite miserably after latin workshops with Tal and Vlada today. I've decided once and for all that while I can enjoy parts of latin, my favorite part is when samba is over. But I digress from my story. Pat, a friendly acquaintance from salsa nights and who is in adv 1, walked out to his bike the same time I went to get mine. As we rode off in the same direction, we soon discovered (about the point of Atherton Hall) that we live within a street of each other.
And then it began to rain.
At first it was a light rain and didn't bother our cycling at all or our conversation. Within a few brief moments, the skies opened as they are wont to do in State College, and we were soaked. He yelled, "Let's go!" and we took off as fast as we could up the campus sidewalk along College. But it was no use. We weren't going to make it before everything was drenched, bags, clothes, shoes, and all. He was in dress clothes and dress shoes. My chacos have lost their tread and also served little use in trying to peddle.
And then everything just seemed as comic and joyful as it could be. I was laughing, refreshed from the cool air and rain, blinking hard so I could see, yelling at pedestrians that I was coming behind them. I was utterly happy in that unwanted, unlooked for rainstorm. It was the feeling of play; like being small again and finding the most banal things delightful to repeat again and again.
Playing in the rain with a friend was a marvelous gift.