In his penultimate book of his best known work, Douglas Adams told a story of a gentleman for whom it always rained, wherever he went. Always. Ceaselessly. San Francisco knows me as this man. I left Sunnyvale this morning, where it lived up to its name. I sat at the train station with the sun beating down upon me (if this were NZ, I'd be very badly sunburnt). I got on the train and as soon as I started heading to San Francisco proper, the rain opened up again.
Last year when I was here, San Francisco had been in the middle of an extremely bad drought. They hadn't seen as much as a drop of water from the sky in many months – that is until I got there. I was there for 5 days, staying in the city. It rained. every. single. day. When it wasn't drizzling, it was splattering, when it wasn't splattering, it was down-pouring. The very day after I left, the clouds disappeared and rain was not seen for a long time after.
My name is The Rain God. If I move to San Francisco there will be floods like the world has not seen since Noah started finding pairs.