I first noticed The Biker Guy about six months ago. Actually, I noticed his pants. They seemed a little too flamboyant, his hair a little too disheveled, his courier bag a little too ironic. I thought he was trying a little too hard. It irked me that he was so attractive. Naturally, I started seeing him everywhere. On the bus. On the Caltrain. On Haight Street. We always seemed to be in the same place and he never seemed to recognize me. From conversations he had with other people I learned The Biker was a Red Sox fan. Who was funny. And just plain cool. I was sold.
I began plotting ways to get him to talk to me. But instead of sitting next to him on the train I would walk by silently scolding myself. On the platform I would put in my earbuds, play with my phone, and promptly ignore him. I was doomed to fail! And then it rained. While tying on a plastic bag to cover my bike seat the other night I was interrupted by someone asking: “Is your seat still wet from this morning?”
Frazzled I looked up. It was The Biker. And he was smiling! We had a brief exchange where I managed not to embarrass myself too much. Something about being prepared and three changes of underwear. Wait. Maybe I did embarrass myself. Anyhow, my point is this: sometimes getting caught in the rain is the best thing that can happen to you.