Raindrops keep falling on my head

It hasn't stopped raining since I walked out of Port Authority. Even though it's a light spritz, it's still water falling from the sky. Unfortunately, even a light spritz can make puddles if it doesn't stop.

As I zig and zag between pedestrians, all I can think of is how happy I am that I wore warm clothing this time. Last year in NYC, I packed lightly and paid for it dearly. The long coat, sweater and jeans are keeping me warm - but not dry - in the rain.

Normally, when I arrive, I run around, taking pictures with my camera. Due to the weather, that isn't happening. Technically, I can take pictures, but it's hard with the rain pelting down on you and the wind blowing the rain in your face.

For the next hour, I find refuge in the Apple store on 59th and Fifth. Never have I been so happy to be in an Apple store. Personally, I think their products are lovely, but pricey (and always require replacing after 2 1/2 years).

I check my e-mail because I didn't bring my laptop with me and see I have 23 messages (no spam) from the time I left work the night before to this morning. What the fuck is up with that? It ususally takes me a full day to get that many messages.

As I go through my reader and scan through the porn, the store gets hotter and hotter. People start to smell, like steaming piles. It must be due to all the people who are escaping the rain. I find a message from Davis and I'm glad he's still up for meeting up. Too bad I have to find a way to kill another couple of hours.

Off I go to the Time Warner Centre, the multi-billion dollar complex located off Columbus Circle. By the time I get 1/2 way there, I'm soaked. Not only is it pouring, but the wind is blowing in all sorts of directions. If I was a menopausal woman, this would the perfect situation as I wouldn't require any Astroglide to keep my ladybits from drying out.

Time flies while I'm at Borders and reading magazines I never intend to buy. I want time to fly because I want to see Davis. Well, Davis and the Hearst Tower.

When I get to the security desk, a situation occurs that I'm not expecting: they have the wrong name. Actually, they have my name, but it's my alias. Davis didn't realize it when he gave them my professional name. Funny enough, all I have to say is 'facebook' with an eyebrow raise, and they let me through.

When I peel the 'visitor' sticker onto my soaked coat, I see him coming down the escalator. He's dressed in black. I'm dressed in mostly black. He looks great. I look like shit. For the next couple of hours, I'm constantly reminded why Davis is such a lovely guy. The man must have the patience of a sexually-frustrated nun as he lets me ramble on about multiple personalities and X-tube profiles. That, and took me on a tour of building (even though there is no official tour). Sadly, Oprah never appeared.

When it's time for me to leave, I ask where the loo is. Davis points me to a set of doors that leads to a series of beige hallways. He says he can show me the way, but I feel a little weird - I don't need the full tour. Because I'm a man with no sense of direction, I end up walking around a series of hallways and staircases, each one saying an alarm will go off if I open that specific set of doors. But, I don't care. It's still pouring outside and I don't want to leave.

Still, after 15 minutes of walking around the labyrinth, I give up and walk through a set of doors. They're clearly labelled an alarm will sound if they're opened. I don't care anymore. I slowly open them and I hear a piercing alarm. I turn around, look at the security camera, tip my hat down and walk out the door.

It's my punishment for overstaying too long indoors.