Downpour.

Saturday was supposed to be a beach day. But when I wake up and roll over and see the ominous gray skies outside my window, I think maybe that will not happen. So after eating breakfast and watching The Soup, I decide to go with the next best plan: seeing Mamma Mia and picking up my copy of Breaking Dawn.

Around noon, I get out of the subway a few blocks from the movie theatre that is conveniently located across the street from Barnes and Noble. It has started to sprinkle, and I congratulate myself on my good sense in putting on closed-toed flats instead of flip flops, despite the heat. I've also brought my umbrella with me. I am a genius.

Moments later, so suddenly that I think I must either be on the set of Lost or that God is mocking me, water is pouring from the sky. Civilians are running for shelter anywhere they can find it - under construction scaffolding, inside ATM vestibules - but I will not be deterred from my goal of an afternoon of mindless girliness. I soldier on, becoming soaked from the waist down (thank heavens my umbrella was there to keep my shoulders dry) and sloshing around in my stupid shoes. People are peering out from their havens, looking at me like I'm some sort of crazy person. Or a hero.

I stop at a crosswalk, willing the light to change. Barnes and Noble is just across the street now. As I wait, a man jogs up beside me in a t-shirt, shorts, and running shoes, probably having just come from the park. Normally I wouldn't notice, but we are almost the only people left on the street. He is soaked to the skin, and I am not in much better shape with my sad little umbrella. I look over and realize the man is Dennis Quaid. As the light changes, he smiles ruefully in a moment of sopping wet camaraderie and then jogs away.

By the time the movie is over, my clothes are dry and the sun is out, but my shoes are still moist and make little sloshing noises as I walk back to the subway. Stupid shoes. I bet Dennis doesn't have to put up with this crap.