The Epic Rainstorm of October 29, 1973 - Part 3

Stories and fantasies about rainwear.
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joe
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Joined: January 18th, 2010, 3:36 am
Location: Maine, USA

The Epic Rainstorm of October 29, 1973 - Part 3

Post by joe »

It rained increasingly harder that October morning and torrential thunderstorms started at 11:00AM. This was the same torrential thunderstorm that soaked the suburban mothers as they finished their morning errands and gathered with each other. It also beat down relentlessly on the crossing guards just as they resumed standing their street corner watch after putting on their cold wet rubber slickers and rain capes: the same slickers that got drenched for two and a half hours earlier that morning. Those thunderstorms also pounded down on the police who put on their black to orange reversible raincoats to respond to flood alarms triggered by rising rivers and streams. The cops and crossing guards needed “raincoat relief” more than anyone else. Unfortunately, they did not have the luxury of a change in raincoats. They just had to endure a continuous soaking of the raincoats they had on. And just as the suburban mothers soaked their raincoats across New Jersey, men and women commuters drenched their Balmacaans and trench coats on the sidewalks of New York and the downtowns and parking lots of New Jersey for the first time in weeks. So too were college students drenched walking across campus: everyone was getting utterly, wretchedly wet!

The same torrential rain fell outside the classroom windows as the 11:45AM dismissal for lunch drew closer. I couldn’t wait to get my tan raincoat and my bomber hat on to get back out into the rain and make the twenty-five minute brisk walk home. I would have no more than 10 minutes to eat lunch before returning to school. I wasn’t thinking about the fact that I would soak my raincoat without time to get it dry in the furnace closet at home. At home, my mom, after the other women had left, hung her raincoat in the furnace closet. She then moved quickly to the bathroom feeling the sharp need to defecate. The excitement of anticipating and then going out into the heavy rain had done its work on her and she was trying to hold in a monster crap all the while the women were leaving the house to go back out into the rain. She moved quickly to the bathroom already holding up her skirt high above her waist so that she could more easily lower her hose and panties when she got on the toilet. There she let loose with a fragrant gassy poo, tilting her head back and rolling her eyes as both poo and pee gushed into the toilet. Farting and filling the bathroom as only the stench of a pooping woman can, she blasted away at the poor toilet. Her butt was a complete mess but she was getting pure and total relief. Most of her family, including her husband and several of her children had dodgy bowels and the pervasive dampness of the air on a rainy day only seemed to make this worse. She remembered how quickly I would have to get to the bathroom after coming home for lunch and taking my raincoat off. My mom imagined (quite rightly) that I was probably cramping and holding off diarrhea in school all morning. I was sitting next to my childhood crush: Liz, at our adjoining desks trying to hold it all in. My stomach wanted to explode. I was waiting for lunch, was waiting to wear my raincoat, and waiting to be at home where at last I could be alone in the bathroom to have my diarrhea in peace.

Meanwhile, Amy was stuck at school and fortunately she had no inhibitions about having to use the ladies' room at school. Amy and her basketball teammates liked to eat, and they played and worked hard to burn off those calories. As a result of their appetites, their constricting undergarments and pantyhose conspired to induce horrible cramping gas and the urgent need to defecate. The girls had to frequent the school toilets. During the lunchtime rush at school, the girls had to learn to shit quickly and pee like a racehorse. Amy and the other girls farted, splattered and peed and plopped away as they hovered over the toilets. A messy dump was awful as there was not enough time to wipe completely. With several in the restroom having the runs, the girls felt free to curse the “damn diarrhea” and the skid marks they were leaving on their underwear. (Their mothers when doing the laundry would roll their eyes at what must have gone on in the bathroom.) The air reeked in the school restroom with the girls’ dueling stench of poo and and the scent of perfume.

Even after leaving the stalls and going to the sinks to quickly wash their hands, Amy and some of the other girls were still gassy. They squatted down slightly while standing at the sinks bitching and farting into a continuing shit show. Adolescent girls could be mean, but in the ladies' room they actually protected each other. Here at last, the girls could take relief and avoid the dreaded alternative of accidentally spewing gas out in public in front of boys and everyone else. Amy and the other gassy girls finished washing their hands and took a final squat to cut the farts out of them. “I’m staining my underwear with all this damn gas and blasted diarrhea! Damn diarrhea! Why today? Why do I have to crap up my underwear? The pouring rain is bad enough. I need to wear a damn diaper to go under that tent of a raincoat my Mom put me in today!” Another girl in a still damp silky blouse and her black dress pants was bitching: “I know right. All this damn rain! I feel like a dork in my soaked raincoat and these period pants. Every time I am wearing pantyhose and put on dress pants I am farting up a storm! Ugh!”

Determined to get relief, the girls didn’t care if they burned through their panties and melted their pantyhose trying to drill out the last of their gas. Their friends and teammates sprayed perfume behind them, teasing and hissing at them sympathetically: “You go girl, gas us out, leave a good stench woman, that’s it! Fart it all out girl, get that good relief. P-U! I hope you have a diaper on. Check your pants! You going to need to swirl an upskirt like Marilyn Monroe to vent out all of that gas!” The gassy girls would apologize and with an embarrassing smile and spraying more perfume to counteract their “crop-dusting”, they would thank those around them for their understanding. They finally had relief before re-entering the hallway and starting afternoon classes. The teenage girls wouldn’t be able to get any more relief, if they needed it, until after school when they were walking home and could fart it out under their raincoats.

Amy had walked the last part of the route to the high school that morning across an open field when the torrential rains began and started pounding at the rubber surface of her slicker while her butt blew out copious gas after her quick breakfast before school. Under the cover of her rubber coat protecting her against the drenching rain driving down mercilessly at her slicker, she blasted away into her panties and through her pantyhose and skirt against the inside of her raincoat. If the boys only knew what a stench wafted under her big flowing raincoat as she “crop-dusted” her slicker - whew! Mom taught her from her own years of experience of dealing with gastrointestinal distress that the skirts of her raincoat would vent some of that gas out as she walked. In her raincoat, a woman enjoyed many different kinds of protection that allowed her to indulge. Either alone or with a trusted friend, as long as she wore her raincoat, Amy could fart up a storm with confidence.

My Mom anticipated that my raincoat would be soaked beyond being able to dry it out by putting it in the furnace closet for a mere ten minutes. She went into Amy’s room to get her London Fog raincoat from the closet and lay it out in the kitchen by my chair just as she did this morning with my own raincoat. Meanwhile, those of us who were going home were lining up to leave class just before lunch. Those going home for lunch was mostly boys, myself in my tan Balmacaan and the other boy in his black Balmacaan with the rest of the boys in their slickers and helmet hoods or rain ponchos. The girls that were going home for lunch were wearing lightweight raincoats or winter storm coats. With great rustling noises we got our raincoats from the lockers and with great preparation to get ready for torrential rain we slid our arms into our raincoats. The slickers were fastened, and the raincoats buttoned before we went out into the thunderstorms throwing down torrential rain. I was joined by students from other fifth grade classes including some boys wearing the NFL team rain ponchos. The rainwater just poured off those ponchos. The sound of the rain ricocheting off the heavy PVC ponchos underscored how hard the rain was pounding away on our raincoats. This was the heaviest rain of the day so far. It didn’t take long for me to soak my raincoat. I was about halfway home when my raincoat gave way to the torrential assault. The British tan of my raincoat was now a darker brown and my coat was sopping wet. I had as of this moment thoroughly soaked my raincoat and I felt the rain hammer at my bomber hat and earflaps. Even with the zip-in winter liner, I was soaking my raincoat down to my skin! Along with me were other fifth and sixth grade boys on whose slickers the water no longer just beaded up. Now the rain came down on those slickers in waves and torrents, pushing the boys slightly down and forward so that their raincoats could take the full brunt of the sluicing deluge. The boys, rather than complaining about the rubber raincoats that they so often detested - as recently as this morning - now huddled gratefully under the protection that their rubber coats offered. The moms were right about the raincoats these boys were wearing after all, the rain was not going to come through those slickers!

We soon joined the crossing guard at the street corner who was covered in his enveloping yellow raincoat and shoulder cape. All over town, the women and men who served as crossing guards hunkered down under their heavy yellow rubber rain gear. For almost 3 hours this morning, the rain buffeted down on the squared shoulders of their slickers, testing the waterproof rubber coats to their limits. While we were in school, they went home to temporarily take off their streaming wet raincoats. They turned hair dryers on the highest setting to try and blow torch their torsos, their armpits, their bras, underwear, and pant legs dry – everything their raincoats, hoods, and boots didn’t quite protect. They cursed both the rain and their raincoats – their only protection - as they furiously waved the hand-held hairdryers up and down over their sweaty, dank, polyester crossing guard uniform clothing. They whipped those hairdryers about every which way, getting precious satisfaction out of blow torching themselves some relief before jostling back into their very wet rubber rain slickers and rain capes with determination, this time to endure a torrential late morning thunderstorm over the next two hours. They left their homes again to go back to their street corner posts with the rain coming down in sheets on their rubber slickers. It had been a long time since they had to wear all of this total rubber gear. Under their rain hoods and taking in the aroma of the heavy rain slickers that they were shrouded in, they were glad to be covered in the full length length rubber coats and shoulder capes. They were also going to have to stand watch over the dozens of us who were also dressed in slickers, ponchos, and raincoats. The guards were relieved to see us in our raincoats, especially those of us who were covered just like them in long yellow rubber slickers. The crossing guards knew that you had to wear rubber everything to be impervious to the rain’s assault. In those total, full length rubber coats, both crossing guards and students seemed perfectly dressed for this heavy rain. Both the guards and the students would have to stand in the ferocious downpour for many hours that day. The rain continued its nonstop pounding against the caped backs of our raincoats. We could do nothing else but let it pour!

Now while walking on my street and approaching my house, the monsoon torrents slackened only a little to a steady driving downpour. My mom met me just inside the door, ready to help me take off my completely soaked-through tan raincoat. She was glad to see me, drenched raincoat and all:

“Oh Joe! What a day out there, huh? God, you totally drenched your raincoat, didn’t you? You must’ve had fun being out in all this rain and drenching your raincoat. It’s the day for it. This rain just soaks through our raincoats. I drenched my raincoat this morning. It’s in the furnace closet. I’m going to wear my other raincoat when I take you back to school. It won’t keep me any drier. But let me put your raincoat in the furnace closet and keep it there all afternoon with mine so that they will both be dry if we go out this afternoon. You’re going to change raincoats. It’s there on the chair. You’re going to wear Amy’s London Fog back to school. She already zipped the winter liner in it early last week when the weather got cold. It will stand up to the downpours when you walk home from school this afternoon. Quick! Sit down and eat lunch before we have to get you dressed and out in the rain again.” But I have to go to the bathroom first”, I said. I went to the bathroom where now that I was home from school I could finally empty my poop-laden butt. The room was still filled with what must have been the stench of Mom’s diarrhea blowout. I sat on the toilet and added my own smelly, massive dump to the stench that Mom left behind. Feeling much better and finishing in the bathroom, I went out to rejoin my mom in the kitchen. She heard me ripping out farts in the bathroom. She was glad: “Ah, you needed a good blowout. You needed that relief.”

I sat down at the kitchen table and quickly ate lunch with Amy’s London Fog raincoat parked on the chair next to me. Besides drying wet raincoats and/or warming them up in the furnace closet before we had to put them on, Mom had another trick in raincoat care. Most of us took after her and would sweat bullets in our raincoats in the swampy, dank, humid conditions of New Jersey whenever it rained. Mom would spray Secret aerosol deodorant back and forth on the pile linings of our raincoats or the white canvas linings of our rubber slickers. Both Amy and I with our intensely passionate and competitive natures could sweat almost on command. The deodorant wasn’t strong enough to stop our sweating, but it’s clean fresh scent would keep our raincoats from reeking of our body odor. Unfortunately, it didn’t help with my dodgy stomach and bowels. Like Amy, I would frequently rip out gas inside my raincoat as I burrowed into my coat in the rain. The problem abated after taking my massive dump. I could settle contentedly into this wonderful day of torrential rain.

Finishing lunch, I stood up and pulled on Amy’s raincoat. It was a beautiful light oyster color and a little big on me. Still the long coat draped down perfectly, just over the tops of my boots. The London Fog’s winter liner was thicker and heavier than that in my tan raincoat. I especially enjoyed that there was the scent of my beloved sister left in her raincoat and I could feel in the drape of her coat over my chunky torso and butt just how well her raincoat fit me. My mom said: “That raincoat is going to give you some relief in this drenching downpour. You will need it. Just let it pour! As long as you don’t get her raincoat dirty. It is raining so hard that you probably won’t need to worry about that. It’s her only good coat. You can get it as wet as you want but we will have to dry it out after school so that when Amy needs to wear it tonight, we can have it ready for her.”

We went out again into the pouring rain huddling under our raincoats and settling into the Chevrolet. We made the five-minute drive to school through sheets of rain which kept lashing down incessantly. My mom saw me contentedly snuggling into Amy’s raincoat just before getting out at school to join all the other students returning from lunch in their raincoats, ponchos, and slickers. Adjusting and securing my vinyl winter bomber hat with the ear flaps, my mom smiled and said: “You look good in Amy’s raincoat. Just let it pour!. That’s what raincoats are for. You can drench her raincoat with no problem..”

Looking at me and some of my classmates and friends who were completely covered in their flowing NFL team waterproof ponchos and yellow slickers, she said: “Thank God you are all wearing your raincoats today. This heavy rain can soak your raincoats. Even though all of you are going to get drenched again. But this rain can pour all it wants. You can weather anything as long as you are wearing a good raincoat. You better get out there! Soak that raincoat!”

Dashing up the sidewalk, the rain beat a driving tattoo on me in Amy‘s raincoat. Though my borrowed raincoat was getting a good drenching, it seemed impermeable to the pounding rain. The rain continued its cascade down on the other boys in their gleaming and streaming wet yellow slickers. Those who were wearing the huge flowing hooded ponchos were just a completely wet PVC vinyl sheet of dripping water. In those ponchos and slickers, the boys could be totally unfazed by all this heavy rain. We had already gotten so ridiculously wet going back and forth to school all morning that by now we were both accepting and enjoying the heavy rain. It was a day for the raincoats, and we were grateful for the shelter and protection that they offered. And many of us were now enjoying a “raincoat upgrade” from what we were wearing that morning.

Among those who had gone home for lunch, there were examples of raincoat upgrades (morning jacket to an afternoon full-length rubber slicker) and sadly, raincoat downgrades (morning raincoat to an afternoon winter snorkel coat). For example Michael suffered a “raincoat downgrade.” He came to school that morning in a black Balmacaan raincoat and had a comparatively short walk home for lunch. His black zip-lined single-breasted raincoat was much like my own British tan raincoat. We both soaked our raincoats walking home at lunch even though his walk home was only a block and a half. At 11:45AM the relentlessly torrential rain was enough to soak any raincoat. Those flooding rains were shutting down our local highway which usually happened whenever there was a heavy rain. Fortunately, everything between the school and my house was on high ground. But I saw when Michael returned to school this afternoon, he was wearing a winter jacket. His grandmother had pulled off and changed him out of his soaked raincoat during lunch. I asked Michael about his raincoat. He said that his grandmother had complained that his raincoat had become muddy and made him put on a winter snorkel coat to wear back to school. I really felt for my classmates who had a raincoat downgrade.

By contrast, I loved seeing my classmates who received a raincoat upgrade or as my Mom would call it - “raincoat relief” - during lunch. The girls were especially in need of their changing into a heavier or more waterproof raincoat from their typically lightweight and dressier rainwear. Some of the girls like Verena and Cathy were tall enough, even in fifth grade, to change into and wear their mothers’ raincoats back to school. They looked like young bank tellers coming in from a lunch hour sweeping those wet raincoats off. And now that the day had settled into a complete torrential downpour, there were even some boys who were changed as I was into their mother’s or a woman’s Balmacaan raincoat so that they could better withstand the incessant rain. On most of these borrowed adult raincoats, just like mine, the top half of the raincoat was soaked through leaving the inner winter pile lining as the last line of a downpour defense.

As the torrents of rain continued through the day, mothers were really serious about finding heavier and preferably rubber rain gear for both their sons and daughters to wear back to school after lunchtime. They needed raincoats that could stand up to a complete soaking. They scoured their closets and tried to come up with rubber rain slickers whenever they could. Some mothers were able to change their daughters at lunchtime into total rubber gear. They dressed their daughters like crossing guards in heavy yellow rubber slickers and helmet hoods to go back to school. Now dressed the same as the boys in the rubber slickers, these girls jostled back into school and down the hallways into their classrooms with their slickers streaming wet! The sound of all of us coming back into class in our raincoats was wonderful. But it was one girl in particular that caught my eye. She was widely perceived as a tomboy and a terrific athlete. She almost never wore a raincoat. She returned to school in the soaking rain in her older brother's olive knee-length cloth raincoat bonded to rubber on the inside. These coats were popular among students in the 1960s and 70s and they were a variant and longer length version of the Navy swamp coat. What caught my eye with her was that the drenching rain served to subdue even this girl’s usually defiant tomboy attitude: she looked satisfied and comfortably snug in the completely saturated green benchwarmer raincoat. She had gotten that raincoat so thoroughly wet on her walk from her mother’s car up the sidewalk to return to school. Coming back into class her hood on her soaked raincoat was up and her face radiated contentment underneath it.

Sitting down at my desk again next to Liz, upon whom I had a mild crush, I was tortured by the sight and scent of the rubber lining of her tan suede rubberized cloth and hooded raincoat which she draped to dry that morning over the back of her chair at our paired desks. Now I could happily join Liz, draping Amy’s long beige London Fog with its matching warm winter pile liner over the back of my chair. As I straightened up in my chair after reaching down to get my history book out of my lawyer’s briefcase, Liz was smiling and paid both Amy’s raincoat and me a high compliment. “You changed raincoats during lunch. I love your new raincoat. You look so good in it. I’m jealous and I want a raincoat just like it.” Quickly I whispered back at her: “It’s my sister Amy’s raincoat. I’d love to see you in it. I wish I had my other raincoat from this morning so that you put this one on to wear home in the rain.” Liz was tall and her body was beginning to mature. Amy’s raincoat was perfect for her. Before we got caught and scolded by the teacher, we quickly got quiet. I was glowing after Liz’s compliment and I indulgently snuggled back into the furry liner of Amy’s raincoat. My Mom’s trick of spraying the liner and especially the armpit area of our raincoat with Secret spray deodorant helped mitigate my skanky fifth grade boy odor as the excitement of a rainy day made me stress sweat even though the drenching rain was cold and wet. The scent of the spray deodorant added to the luxurious feeling of Amy’s raincoat. On that rainy day sitting next to Liz, and with both of us snuggling into our raincoats, the classroom became ever more pleasant. The lockers were full, and the rubber aroma from the draping wet slickers that were hanging there in the back of the classroom filled the room. The smell of yellow rubber was so wonderful.

The crossing guards now had about an hour’s break after lunch before they had to get back out on their posts at 2:00PM when the high school classes ended for the day. It was not enough time to go home to take off their raincoats and fire up the hairdryers to somewhat dry off. Those who were in downtown locations could take refuge under overhangs or in coffee shops or pizza parlors, wherever a friendly store owner could offer a brief respite from the rain. They jostled along in those heavy rubber slickers and rain capes , feeling twenty pounds heavier from all the accumulated water on their dripping raincoats. Those in out-of-the-way crossings on residential streets went to their cars and turned on the heat to partially dry out even as they steamed up the car windows and sweated in their indispensable slickers. They huddled in their rubber raincoats counting the minutes before they and their raincoats would be back outside getting deluged for another two hours. For this brief time, while they were waiting it out, the rain had briefly moderated to showers. Central New Jersey had already endured 2.60 inches of rain that day. Much more would come, and it would flood a downpour again all through the school dismissal period that would take place over two hours. Those raincoats were only going to get drenched yet again.

My Mom wanted to get to Sears to purchase a Miami Dolphins NFL football poncho for me to wear in heavy rain to school so that I could reserve my tan raincoat for showery rains and dress occasions. But the police, besides drenching their black to orange reversible police raincoats repeatedly in the constant downpour, had to close Route 22, the highway that ran across Central New Jersey. This was announced on the local radio station, and consequently, my Mom had to pull out Amy’s London Fog raincoat to give me some raincoat relief and cover me for the afternoon drenching.

The belt of towns along the Jersey Central Railroad lay beneath the Watchung Mountains. Heavy leaden rain clouds would just park over these suburban towns at the base of the mountain and dump drenching rain. Local rivers, streams, low-lying areas, and Route 22 which followed the base of the Watchung Mountains regularly flooded in severe rainstorms. In response to flood alarms, the police were out closing off flooded areas and roads. The police were out since noontime setting up traffic cones and barriers, and generally soaking their raincoats along with everybody else. My classmate Pam was the daughter of a police officer who came to pick her up at school and he told the teacher about the impending floods in many areas. Some local school districts dismissed an hour early that day, but not our town. Never our town! No matter how hard it was raining or snowing we had to just pile on the raincoats or the winter gear. It never snowed during our elementary school years. We just went through the fall or winter having at least two or three days of heavy rain each month and so we pulled on our raincoats to endure the cold deluges. Pam who was tall and had an adult’s body, even in the fifth grade, put on her mother’s vintage heavy voluminous plaid raincoat that she must have worn to high school from the 1940’s and 50’s and was taken home by her father. It was time for us to get into our raincoats, ponchos and slickers. It was pouring again.

My seat mate Liz and I basically swooned into our raincoats. I sank my arms lusciously into the arms of Amy’s London Fog and pulled that wonderful long raincoat around me, buttoned it, and after putting on and securing my bomber hat, adjusted the raincoat collar for extra protection. Liz adjusted her long brown hair, pulling it back and letting it drop fully covered and protected by the hood on her tan rubberized cotton suede raincoat. As she finished, and I picked up my lawyer’s briefcase, she complimented on my raincoat again. “You look so good in that raincoat.” Some of my other classmates picked up on her compliment and mentioned: “Joe’s in his lawyer’s raincoat. “He looks like Perry Mason,” (a popular TV character of the time.) “He’s always dressed for a downpour.”

Others pulled on their raincoats, fully aware of the downpour outside the classroom windows. Seeing the slanting, driving rain, I was reminded of the Robert Louis Stevenson poem from a third grade English class that described “the rain that rattles and roars.” One classmate, Tom, enjoyed doing up the brass clasps of his helmet hooded black slicker noting how quickly he could put on his raincoat and cover up. Knowing that a relentless, merciless rain was going to deluge our raincoats again, all of us covered up under our coats, slickers, hats, and hoods for dear life. The girls who wore long hooded rainproof winter storm coats were calm and collected as they lined up for dismissal. They were dressed to get thoroughly drenched on their long walks home and still stay dry. Janet in her Winnie-the Pooh red trench coat was also dressed to take a thorough drenching as were the girls who could wear their mother’s winter lined balmacaan raincoats or the borrowed rubber raincoats that once belonged to older brothers. The girls who wore the clear vinyl raincoats imposed over printed cloth almost did as well in the heavy rain. Fortunately, most of the dressy, lightweight raincoats that some of the girls wore to school in the morning were dispensed with at lunchtime in favor of heavier raingear. There some few girls who wore junior balmacaan raincoats and matching rainhats like my tan Briarcliff. They would suffer the fate of soaking their raincoats completely through just as I did at lunch. If their moms were like mine, these girls might arrive home and their mothers, fully expecting their girls to be drowned in their soaked raincoats would steer them immediately into a hot bath. Or the girls might be staying in their soaked raincoats to accompany their mom on afternoon errands. Soaking her raincoat was what a girl had to expect if she was going to be out in the world. It was a lesson best learned at a young age.

The boys were lined up, ready to jostle home in their rubber slickers. They were now prepared and expected the rain to pour down on them in relentless torrents. They were grateful to be dressed like the crossing guards in yellow rubber or the police in their black rubber coats. The rain would pour down without let-up or relief on those slickers, continuously soaking the boys in their raincoats. The boys in the NFL team ponchos let the rain come down, driving down in buckets on their ponchos and making a cacophonous drumming sound on their rain hoods. And I was in a London Fog on my fifty-minute walk home. The rain poured just as relentlessly on the London Fog as on all the other raincoats. And then poured some more. And then still some more. Outwardly, I was getting Amy’s London Fog soaked. But within her raincoat, I was protected by the inner barrier shoulder cape which London Fog called a “third barrier” and that thick luxurious pile liner. I could see why Amy loved this raincoat. I think she could have gotten away with wearing it today and keeping dry going up to the high school. Luckily for me and for my comfort and protection on this total raincoat day, she was wearing her long yellow slicker. And I had the treat of wearing her London Fog for the long walk home as the rain came down in sheets on my raincoat and the raincoats, ponchos, and slickers on everyone walking home from school with me

If the crossing guard at the head of my street had any spirit of resistance in him on that day; it was now washed away by the rain that continued pouring on his full-length rubber raincoat and raincape. He and the other men and women crossing guards were looking forward to getting home out of this autumnal monsoon, finding a place to hang their heavy rubber raincoats to drip puddles on the floor, take off their wet and squishing rain boots, strip, and probably by now, peel off their wet uniform clothing and finally, at last, to indulge in a hot shower. The police were not to enjoy such a luxury to almost midnight. The rain would let up for a period between 4PM and 6PM. The police had a short time to dry out before the flood alarms sounded again. The highway would have close for the entire evening. The worst of the rainstorm would come over us in waves in a mid-evening torrent. The police had to endure a four-hour slicker-soaking downpour from 6:00PM to 10:00PM and then the two-hour flooding aftermath before the waters receded at midnight. Then, they could call it a night.

I arrived home and my Mom helped me slide off Amy’s raincoat and put it in the furnace closet. My Mom was pleased that the raincoat had stood up rather well to the ferocious rainstorm; in fact, she was praising London Fog to the pouring skies. She let me relieve my customary burden as I needed to defecate in the bathroom. My younger brother, Paul arrived home. He was driven home from school by my mother’s closest friend. His rubberized benchwarmer raincoat was very wet, but he would have to wear it outside again with my Mom and I that afternoon on various errands. My Mom now pulled my dry and very warm tan Briarcliff raincoat from the furnace closet for me to put back on over my black rain boots. I wore my trusty bomber hat again. We went to the supermarket in the next town near the Central Railroad cut. My mom crossed the store parking lot to go into the store while my brother and I watched trains in the flooded railroad cut. The afternoon eastbound freight with three engines plunged forward through the flooding. It was quite a sight to watch the train battle the elements.

My older brother Bob would soak his black Aqua Haven raincoat that afternoon just as he had going to school that morning. He had an hour walk downtown to his afterschool job at the public library. He would be at the library and finally out of the rain and his streaming wet raincoat until 9:00PM. Hilary was also walking a relatively short 20 minutes from the junior high school to the library to do homework. She then walked home from the library an hour before supper. It was still raining hard enough to justify her long rubber Lacrosse crossing guard/safety patrol rain slicker. She left with all the other junior high school students who piled on their raincoats for the afternoon drenching. At least they did not have to stand outside for the wet down as they had that morning. They had a long but direct walk home to let the rain pound at their ponchos, soak their slickers, and drench the balmacaan raincoats or trench coats that some of them wore. They had just spent six and a half hours sweating out their adolescent bodily odors in the sweltering steam heat of the ancient junior high school. That wasn’t the only thing they had to endure. The long morning walk through a drenching, sadistic downpour. Standing outside that morning and awaiting the doors to open in a wet down as the rain pounded away at the protection afforded by their ponchos and slickers. And more and more of that dehumanizing sweat in the steamy sauna of a hothouse for early adolescents. There was nothing worse than a full day of torrential rain in a junior high school with steam heat and all the windows shut tight. You couldn’t wait to go your locker and get your raincoat for the dismissal at 3:00PM. You would gladly accept the drenching rain pouring down in buckets on your raincoat just to be free of that sweat box! An overheated adolescent boy or girl could let the rain pour even if it soaked those wearing a Robert Hall Balmacaan raincoat into a sieve. At least, the bedraggled kids were finally cooling off! Even on the short walk to the library and fully covered in her yellow rubber raincoat, even Hilary, normally an ice woman, was venting steam through the underarm eyelets and the caped back of her heavy slicker after a day in the junior high hothouse. Unlike the morning, the pounding rain this afternoon did not produce a headache under her helmet hood. For her and her classmates, this rain was freedom and relief. And Hillary wanted it to pour even more. Freedom and relief from the long day at school came in the buckets of rain cascading down on her slicker. She wanted that raincoat drenched. When she left the library for supper, she enjoyed going out into a moderate rain. On the last part of her walk, the heavens opened to start their mid-evening torrential downpour appropriately soaking Hilary’s slicker in a final drenching in case she forgot why she wore her rubber raincoat. She was streaming wet in her slicker upon arriving home and to me she never looked better.

Amy finished basketball practice, showered, slathered on deodorant, put on her undies, pantyhose, skirt, oxford shirt, sweater, black rubber boots and long yellow slicker. She put on her rain hat over her damp hair. That was it. She liked and prided herself in being low maintenance. Nearing 6:00PM and after a long afternoon of basketball practice, she walked home as quickly as she could toting her dirty gym clothes and her schoolbooks in an increasingly drenching heavy rain. She slogged briskly through the heavy rain making the skirts of her raincoat billow across the open field before she finally got to the wooded pathway close to home. She was so hungry and rushing so much that she couldn’t stroll in the rain as she preferred. But it was still a long enough walk to expose her to the drenching deluge. She was grateful for the hour of freedom to let the rain drive down her slicker just as she anticipated it would that morning. She let the rain pound and pour. Now at the end of the school day and on her way home, she was ready to let the rain soak her slicker right down to her bra! Arriving at home, my mom helped her out of her slicker and took both the totally wet raincoat and her dirty gym laundry out to the garage. Almost unladylike, Amy shoveled supper into her mouth ravenously. My Mom came back and playfully pulled at Amy’s hair to try to get her to slow down. When Mom, Amy, Hilary, Paul and I finished supper, Mom got Amy’s London Fog from the furnace closet. She opened it for Amy who put it on with a flourish and helped her snuggle into her coat. (Just as I had at lunchtime.) My Mom took Amy in the car to join my brother at the library to do a few hours of homework. Then, Mom went to pick-up my Dad at the bus stop. The bus was late due to the highway flooding and having to take an alternate route on higher ground. He had soaked his raincoat continuously all day and upon getting home, hung his raincoat to drip dry in the shower.

After a while, my Mom finally sent me to a hot shower. My legs were hurting. It was a sign that even I had enough of slogging around all day in heavy rain. The shower was the perfect antidote and I was soon feeling satisfied and sleepy. My Mom saw me briefly before I went to my bedroom, reminding me that I had to say thank you to Amy for “borrowing” her London Fog for some “raincoat relief” after soaking my raincoat in the torrential thunderstorms at lunchtime. I got into bed and got my legs warm and stretched completely satisfied that I had enjoyed this “serious raincoat day” to the utmost. It turned out to be everything that I anticipated the night before.

My Mom went to the furnace closet and pulled out her navy London Fog that she had previously completely soaked before lunchtime. She nestled into her dry raincoat and went out in the worst torrential rain of the day to pick up Bob and Amy at the library. Just getting to the car drenched her raincoat again. The three of them came home – Mom and Amy held up fairly well in their London Fog raincoats without break through, but Bob’s raincoat couldn’t take the buckets of water dumping torrentially that evening. The torrential heavy rain came driving right through his raincoat and had soaked the black cloth shiny. He came into the house looking like a wet seal and he was cursing the monsoon. (I would experience this when I grew into his Robert Hall raincoat in two years and wore it regularly to junior high.) Bob was able to sit down and have dinner at last. Amy had a bit more of supper, eating more slowly this time.

After a while, Amy knocked and came into my room carrying her still wet London Fog raincoat. It would dry out in her room overnight so that she could wear it to school tomorrow. She looked tired as she kicked off her Bass Weejuns that she wore to the library after getting out of the wet squishing rain boots that she wore to school. Draping her raincoat across her lap, she sat down on my bed and playfully brushed my hair and gave me the business: “Joey must have had quite the day. I heard that he totally soaked his raincoat coming home at noon and that he had to wear my raincoat back to school after lunch. Then he tried to soak my raincoat coming home after school but of course he couldn’t. He had to walk home in a driving torrential downpour but the raincoat he was wearing wouldn’t let the rain come through. At least we now know how to keep this young man dry. Just put him in a big girl’s raincoat!”

She laughed and playfully brushed at my hair again. Ever fresh, she said: “Did you like sinking your gassy butt into your sister’s raincoat as much as she does?” “Yes, I did”, I daringly said. “Thank you Amy. I loved wearing your raincoat. It was like heaven. And you, you are the best sister for being so pleased that I wore it.” “Charmer as always!”; she said. “I hope you didn’t stink it up as bad as I do”, giggling to herself as she sprayed the raincoat liner with the same Secret Deodorant that I had slathered on my armpits after my shower. Now using her still wet raincoat as a blanket over her, she laid atop my blanket on my bed next to me. “It was a perfect day for us, wasn’t it?” “Yes, it was”, I said. My sister looked perfect still dressed in her school clothes and using her beautiful raincoat as a blanket as she lay on her stomach. Amy was recharging some of her end-of-the-day exhaustion nestled on top of my bed. She continued to review this torrentially rainy day. We both liked to recall the most enjoyable experiences after a day of heavy rain:

“Well, we can sleep soundly tonight. We soaked our raincoats like there was no tomorrow. Mom’s got raincoats drying out all over the place downstairs. It must be her version of interior decorating.” We both laughed.

“Is your stomach cramping?”, Amy asked. “A little”, I said. (It was actually cramping more than than that.) “Just fart it out with me. Don’t hold back. I need to fart”, Amy said. Amy blasted a long fart under her raincoat, and I followed her pushing a long column of loud reeking gas down into my bed now that I was under the covers. “Ah, we have relief”, my sister sighed as she sprayed deodorant in the air to counteract the stench from both of our incessant gas. “It’s a good thing that Mom lets us wear our raincoats whenever we want. It more than makes up for the fact that she is going to kill us with her cooking. Between that and the stupid cafeteria food at school. Thank God we can both fart it out!” We both laughed.

Our doctor encouraged both of us to relieve ourselves of the uncomfortable, cramping gas from our IBS whenever we could. The excitement of wearing our raincoats for this epic rainstorm played havoc on the bowels of both Amy and I. I usually wore a pull-up adult diaper to afford me a modicum of protection. Amy tried to avoid this unless her distress was really bad. But typically we both had to shower at night to get really clean. Amy still had to go the bathroom and decide how she would get ready for bed. We frequently teased each other as not just needing a wipe but a shower! It was good that both Amy and I could help each other through this condition that invariably made life a daily challenge.

Amy then got up and kissed me on the forehead and whispered: “On these precious occasions of all-day torrential rain, when you see me going out looking like a taxicab in my huge yellow slicker, you can wear my London Fog raincoat anytime you want. Or you can wear my rain slicker almost all of the time when I am in my London Fog. Pretty soon you’ll grow more and I bet we’ll both be close to the same height. Besides, it’s the duty of a sister to keep her favorite brother dry and to make sure that he wears a raincoat. You can count on it. I love you.”

“I love you too”, I said. “ I am so glad that I got to wear your raincoat today. Good night.” After Amy left, I rolled over on my stomach and fell asleep, content with the knowledge that I just lived the perfect day. Now rather than pounding, the rain had tapered to drumming on the porch roof before turning to a heavy drizzle while I slept. My sisters would join Bob and I wearing our Balmacaan raincoats in that periodic drizzle and cloudiness tomorrow. The wet down was over.

Hourly Rainfall Totals (in inches) in the towns just east of Plainfield, New Jersey on October 29, 1973 ending at:

1AM .10
2AM .09
3AM .05
4AM .12
5AM .15
6AM .16
7AM .12
8AM .12
9AM .40
10AM .31
11AM .30
12PM .45
1PM .23
2PM .17
3PM .36
4PM .39
5PM .10
6PM .14
7PM .29
8PM .55
9PM .51
10PM .36
11PM .19
12AM T

Daily Rainfall Total for 10/29/73 – 5.66 inches
Last edited by joe on June 12th, 2021, 6:30 pm, edited 6 times in total.
rubberraincoat
Posts: 29
Joined: July 24th, 2017, 2:33 pm
Location: Austin, TX

Re: The Epic Rainstorm of October 29, 1973 - Part 3

Post by rubberraincoat »

What a shame to ruin the fart, sweat and stinky odor inside the rubber raincoats with deodorant !
Mackymick
Posts: 100
Joined: August 3rd, 2020, 1:49 pm
Location: London

Re: The Epic Rainstorm of October 29, 1973 - Part 3

Post by Mackymick »

Jeeeeeeeeeeeezzzzzzzzzzzz...............zzzzzzzzzzz
joe
Posts: 73
Joined: January 18th, 2010, 3:36 am
Location: Maine, USA

Re: The Epic Rainstorm of October 29, 1973 - Part 3

Post by joe »

Thank you both for your replies and reactions to my account. The spray deodorants of old could "freshen up" an often worn raincoat and most especially the rubber slickers made by Weather Rite, Rainfair, Swell-Wear and others. Fortunately this attempt at freshening was only temporary and, in the case of the slickers, the wonderful aromatic patina of these coats soon returned as your wore it and enjoyed sweeping it on and off throughout the day. The more you got to wear your slicker and really expose it to all day downpours increased that musty smell that grew on the rubberized canvas. I loved that mustiness for I regarded it as a mark of exposure to numerous heavy rainstorms. The mustiness from repeated exposure to and wetting from the weather, of humidity induced sweating, the overpowering and intoxicating scent of rubber, and yes, some lower GI "crop dusting" no doubt from all the excitement percolating in my gut over a day of drenching rain all contributed toward what was for me a singular and special raincoat experience.
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