Puddle Jumping

Last night Kelley and I found ourselves caught in the middle of a downpour. We had just finished dinner with Michelle's family (visiting from the states) and went to leave Pizza Hut when we noticed the incredible rain shower. Kelley and I attempted to hail a cab, but after 15 minutes standing waiting for a taxi we decided to try and walk back. Well, by the time we started walking the rain had already begun to run off of my Gore-Tex jacket and onto my pants. By the time we were half to the boy's place (to pick up Kelley's bike) we were soaked through. At that point, we figured what the heck and took up the sport of puddle jumping. I remember one particular puddle where Kelley said, "you can't even see the bottom!" To which I jumped in and exclaimed, "there it is" as the muddy and God-only-knows-what water covered my shoes. By the time we reached the boy's place we were drenched. However, despite the fact that I was freezing cold and my shoes will probably never dry in this humid climate, it was fun. I revisited a time in my life when puddle jumping was an art and being drenched in a down pour was enjoyable and laughable. That night, even in the cold, I enjoyed laughing with one of my closest friends and reinventing the art of puddle jumping.