|Rain in MO is weird, yo.|
You see, like most miserable and homesick college kids, I would go home almost every weekend, ostensibly to do laundry somewhere where I did not have to fish someone's forgotten and moldy (at least I hope that was mold) tighty whiteys out of the washing machine before I could put my stuff in, but really because I missed my cat (and my family, I guess).
It had stormed all weekend, and I have terrible night vision, as a result, I decided to wait until Monday morning to make the two hour trek back to Springfield.
I overslept a bit, and therefore sped back to Springfield post haste upon waking, but barely arrived in time to park my car at my apartment/dorm/hell hole and walk to class. Unfortunately, my rain boots and umbrella were in my apartment. Even more unfortunately...I locked and shut my car door with the keys still inside...
|Don't act like you come here for the artwork.|
Faced with no other option, I valiantly began to trudge to class in my pajamas and flip-flops. However, I did not count on the fact that the campus of Southwest Missouri State had been designed to maximize flooding potential every time it rained.
SO THERE I WAS (every great story starts with SO THERE I WAS) crossing the busy street that separated the dorms and frat houses from the rest of campus when a TORRENTIAL CURRENT OF DEATH came racing down the street, straight towards me.
|It was exactly like this, but more epic.|
I stared in wide-eyed terror for approximately three seconds before I started running for the curb, but it was too late. The water rushed past me, and as I took that final step towards the sidewalk, a fatal squicky suction noise resounded in the deep, carrying away with it's reverberations, my right flip-flop.
I lunged forwards to grab my rubbery friend before he could slip away, but alas! The current proved too swift and my poor flip-flop was swept into the large gaping maw of a storm drain.
Disheartened and sopping wet, I made my way to French class, where I proceeded to form a puddle under my desk. I'm pretty sure that's why I made a D in French that semester...it has nothing at all to do with my complete lack of memorization skills....
|Pretty sure my French teacher hated me before this incident.|