For awhile, it seemed like very Thursday it rained in the city. I know it was always a Thursday because I walked to my part-time job at the Lion King theatre and I always worked Thursday nights. And it was always raining.
Rain in the city is a bummer- there’s no escaping it and for the most part, an umbrella does very little good. You really need hip waders and a big floppy hat. Once, I wore some new velvety Gap pants to work – I loved those pants. About half way to work, it just started pouring and it wasn't supposed to. Yet, someone turned on a faucet above and New York was almost washed away. It rained sideways. I got to work and was so tired and so soaked and so miserable that I just started crying. One of my managers named David (I called him “Diva David”, with David pronounced as “Da-Veed”) made me feel so much better by giving me a hug, listening to me cry and saying “I’d be so mad if my velvet pants got ruined, too”. There’s nothing like a great gay man to cheer you up.
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