Grumble, Grumble

Not much puts me in a worse mood than cycling in the rain.  I try to avoid it as much as possible, but sometimes I simply can't.  This week, myself and two others are gathering data on how people use different types of bicycle infrastructures at intersections.  The final results paper is due in 18 days, so we don't have time to wait for ideal weather conditions.  We observed our first intersection in dark, cold and misty conditions at 8am this morning.  I was so cold by the end of the hour that I had to buy a coffee.  Sitting in a warm cafe drinking hot liquid still didn't warm me up, so I took my boots off and put them and my feet right next to the radiator.  This was probably rude but whatever, I'm foreign.

By 10am the mist had stopped and tiny patches of blue sky were peaking through.  The three of us went to a new intersection and gathered our data in decent weather, then made plans to meet at an intersection 25 minutes away from my house for the afternoon rush hour.  Over the next 4 hours the patches of blue turned to dark gray and rain. 

The entire wet ride there I couldn't stop thinking "ugh I hate the rain....ugggggggh this really sucks....this research better be worth it....if that dude cuts me off I'm going to kick his bike over....why did I leave sunny California for this crap?...why didn't I listen to mom?"  Basically, I grumbled the entire ride.  When packing to come to the Netherlands, I decided not to pack my North Face jacket I practically wore every day in rainy Oregon because I didn't think it was cute enough.  My mom, always practical, encouraged me to bring it.  'Nope, I don't have room' I told myself. 

Days like today make me realize how stupid it was to leave that very warm, waterproof jacket behind.  That thing handled winter and rain storms like a champ.  Instead, today I wore my super awesome green emergency parka (that my mom gave me) over the warmest jacket I have here.  I arrived at the intersection partially wet and returned home completely drenched and miserable.  I felt pathetic trying to pry off my wet skinny jeans, and every drop of water I hear dripping off the clothes I've hung up around the room to dry taunts me.

Moral of the story: listen to your mother.  And buy rain pants.