UMD: Umbrellas of Mass Destruction

I never used to bother with an umbrella. Certainly they were rarely necessary in Wyoming: most downpours were brief enough that you'd just hole up in your car or wait under the eaves until it had blown over and the sun re-emerged. And even in S.F. during the rainy season it's easy enough to avoid the deluges; the rest of the crap is just drizzly damp that doesn't soak to the skin or blows under the umbrella anyway.

This city, however, is populated with a bunch of pansyasses who open up their umbrellas at the slightest hint of moisture. Since most of these people are shorter than me and unaware of anyone else on the narrow sidewalk, I'm forced to arm myself with an umbrella now, too. It's strictly a defensive maneuver: If I don't shield my personal space, my ears get clipped by the pointy bits of all the other umbrellas and more than once I've nearly gotten an eye poked out. No ordinary collapsable pocket variety will do, either... the umbrella arms race has begun. My walks to and from work have thus become a frightening tactical defense exercise, a great jostling of umbrellas bouncing off each other requiring concentration and precision positioning skill for maximum head and neck protection while adjusting for sudden unpredictable wind shear or downdrafts in the side canyons of the Financial District.

And the whole while, I'm forced to hunker down with my umbrella clamped against my head - otherwise the height difference between me and the average sidewalker leaves my umbrella floating gently above the undulating umbrella sea and I still get nicked in the bean. And then the terrorists win.