The Rockettes II

I left giving myself more than enough time to get over to the Academy, pick up Roc, shoot over to the West side, and make the show.
Except it was raining.
I mean pouring; the type of rain where you just want to crawl up under the covers with a hot cocoa, a bowl of popcorn and an old movie you've seen a hundred times already.
Or maybe that's just me.
But I digress! Picture the rain. Got it? Okay, now picture me already being annoyed because he has to stay late for something stupid, and driving into the city (which I might have mentioned hating) and now picture the guy from Connecticut SLAMMING RIGHT INTO ME FROM BEHIND ON THE PARKWAY ON THE WAY INTO THE CITY!
Fun for everyone.
He gets out; I get out. I decide not to kill him. He knows he's wrong; he was following too close, it's raining, he's in a foreign land, etc. The good news is that the rain is starting to let up so I'm only getting half-soaked as I stand outside my car on the side of the road, smoke billowing from my ears.
We exchange information and the even better news is that I have a German car that thinks it's a tank. I have basically no damage, but we call the local cops, and you know the drill. Less than an hour later, I'm back on my way.
To say I was anxious would be an understatement. Now I'm running late and I can't call Roc---no cell phones allowed at the Academy---so now I am picturing him standing outside the Academy wondering where the hell I am. The rain begins to turn to drizzle and I am trying to be optimistic as I keep checking the time, every two minutes glancing over at the clock.
I make it almost on time and of course Roc is no where to be found as I circle the few blocks surrounding the Academy. My whole face is so tight that I am sure I can feel a vein popping right up through my skin. Our initial goal was to park over by the Academy and walk over to the West side, but now I see that if he even ever gets out of there we're going to have to slalom over to the West side in the car, park, and run for it.
On the third time circling, I see a guy who kind of looks like Roc standing outside the Academy with the frigging bag in his hand. Could this be my...yes! He's the only recruit with grey hair.
I pull over, he jumps in, and we start talking over each other right away. I mention the accident as I start strategically trying to fight the city traffic at the height of the Christmas Season. He gasps, and I'm not sure if it's because of my driving or the information. In the meantime, he's trying to fit the sweater I bought for him over his head, because he won't have time to fully change but wants the uniform shirt off. I find a parking garage nearby Radio City that charges no less than a thousand dollars an hour and pull in as if I am at the end of a torturous ride; which in this case I am. We jump out as if the car is on fire and proceed to run the four blocks left to the show.
We end up missing the first twenty minutes. The truth is that I probably missed the first hour, because although I was sitting in the seat, I wasn't really there. My mind was thinking about how much I hated this and if this was what my 'new' life was going to be like...how the hell was I going to deal with it?