My magical day in New York city actually began at 4 AM, when I was still awake and shaking with something that may or may not be the flu. For the twentieth time I glanced at the clock, knowing that in three hours I had to get on a train to head into the city for work.
I pondered calling out sick... after all, I was sweating and shaking uncontrollably, my throat was on fire, and I was coughing like it was going out of style... but I thought to myself, "Man up you wimp, and get your sorry ass into work. People are expecting you in New York today and you have to be there."
So I get up, grab a shower, and try to keep my balance as I go through my morning routine dizzy from lack of sleep and rampaging germs. In an effort to sustain myself throughout the day, I figure going to pick up some DayQuil might be a good idea... but the ten minutes it takes to do that makes me five minutes late for my train, and I'm forced to wait in the Wilmington train station for an hour for the next ride.
No worries, I think to myself. My meetings are in the afternoon anyway.
When I arrive in NYC, it is absolutely pouring down rain. This would only make sense because I forgot to bring an umbrella.
After a quick cab ride I'm at work, where I am promptly informed that one of the guys I dragged my disease-ridden carcass in there to see is not in today... he's called out sick.
In an attempt to put a positive spin on things, I say to myself, "Oh well, now you can go home earlier." So I do... and it is raining even harder than before. I COULD walk to the subway... it's not far... but I'd like to avoid getting wet and making myself even sicker, so I step up to hail a cab... and promptly get utterly soaked by a passing car striking a puddle.
Of course, at that point I simply took the subway. It wasn't like I could possibly get any wetter.
At least no one wanted to sit next to my shivering, hacking, dripping person when I finally got on the train home.