I was on my way to Hooters to meet Jerry and Gina for some wings, beer, and football when I made a startling observation:

Hipsters in the rain are a big ole' mess.

As I headed to the G train, I ran across a group of four or five hipsters. They were skulking through the October rain, looking absolutely ridiculous...their once perfectly coiffed hair soaked to their skulls, their nonsensically logoed t-shirts clinging to their skinny frames, their stylish shoes incompatible with the slippery sidewalks and oil-slicked puddles. None of them even carried an umbrella - an accessory likely too practical to be considered hip.

I wonder if they passed us commoners and felt even the slightest twinges of jealousy. Perhaps they coveted our simple lives and wished at that moment they too could walk comfortably through the rain in jeans and sneakers, their hair pulled back in ponytails or covered with worn baseball caps...umbrellas sensibly shielding them from the elements.

I would have felt sorry for the group had they not voluntarily chosen their lot in life. Sometimes though, it must be hard being a hipster.