Somebody wet my pants

You know you are in West Texas when you walk into a room and the only topic of conversation is the rain, and you experience the childlike exuberance with which those participating embrace the topic.

Needless to say, it rained here this afternoon ... a much needed rain. There was a nice, slow sprinkle falling when I left my office for lunch. Just enough to dampen the atmosphere and make the ceramic tile in our entry way extremely slick. This is always entertaining since I work in the building where old folks with money come to leave donations. We just hope they fall on the way out after they have already dropped off their checks.

Coming back from lunch, the rain had all but stopped. I had an appointment in the science building on the other side of the campus, which for our small campus is roughly the equivalent of four city blocks. I decided to walk and breathe in the fresh air.

Upon leaving the science building, there was still barely a sprinkle. I thought I would head over the gymnasium to pick up some information from a couple of coaches. The gym is sort of on the way back to my office, if you take the circuitous route and sneak up on my building from behind, but it is still at least three blocks from the science building.

I hike to the Hutch through the damp afternoon air, watching the grass turn green before my very eyes. I spend about an hour in the gymnasium talking to various head coaches, one of whom was just named golf coach of the year in our region. That’s fairly significant since four of the top eight teams (including us) in the country are in our region.

As I polish off the interview and gently place my notepad and recorder in my pocket to protect it from the dampness and head back up stairs and toward the outer doors, I suddenly remember what this part of the world is famous for during this time of year … momentary torrential downpours.

… and I got wet.