Although it is legally springtime, it is raining. At a time like this, it sure would be nice to whip out an umbrella, but everyone knows how uncool that is. And everyone also knows there is only one thing that can offset that uncoolness: petty theft. But wherever shall you go? The answer lies in the most swagless place in all of the U-District: University Village. The experience of stepping foot into U-Ville is so upsetting it is no wonder every patron is overcome with kleptomania. But not for the Pelatons and baby cribs, no, for the umbrellas. Those hefty yellow umbrellas just sit there, beckoning you to release them from their prison. Once an umbrella is plucked from the bin labeled, “DO NOT TAKE OUTSIDE U-VILLAGE. BIG BROTHER IS WATCHING,” it usually takes a few laps around the U-District, hitting local spots like the dorm or Chase Bank. That is, until one umbrella embarked on a journey that no other had ever dared to make. 

On the 95th rainfall of the year, the lucky young umbrella was selected from the bunch by an intern who had stopped by U-Ville to pick up a venti water and an artisanal laptop. “Well looky here,” said the tern, twisting a handlebar mustache, “Don’t mind if I do.” He picked up the umbrella with dubious intent and twirled it around like a handlebar mustache. As he and the umbrella traipsed around the “village”, the umbrella wriggled with delight. She was enamored with everything she saw: the Apple Store, the candle store, Macklemore. But this was nothing compared to what would come. After the intern sneakily took her away from her home, she was placed in purgatory: an apartment entryway inside The M. She remained there for just a matter of hours before she became restless. She knew there had to be more…

Last month, the umbrella was spotted in Yellowstone National Park with one ear to the ground predicting the next caldera eruption. “We’re safe for now,” she said. Here she rode the backs of buffalo and met other travelers who inspired her next destinations. After her brief stint in the Rocky Mountains, the umbrella was spotted at the Bellagio Casino, betting high and frittering away the loose dollars she snagged out of the intern's pocket. With her tip coated in a powdery white substance, onlookers were terrified of the path she was headed down. “I can quit anytime I want,” she said through gritted… umm… 

After losing big, a bouncer tossed her out into the rain where she was left humiliated and soaking wet, no less. She knew this wasn’t her; this wasn’t her purpose. The ol’ girl hopped on a Greyhound and spent the next two and a half days gazing out the window on her way to her final stop: Tampa, Florida. Here she found herself in the Everglades, wading through the bog and coexisting with the gators. Here she found her people. 

They talked, laughed, told secrets, had a barbecue, and even scored tickets to the Tampa Eras tour, using the intern’s stolen Capital One credit card. The night before the show they sang Red, cursing John Mayer and stupid Jake Gyllenhaal, harmonizing with the fireflies and other bog critters. They sewed sequins on tube tops and taped soda bottles to their legs in preparation. When the big day came the ragtag crew made the pilgrimage to Raymond James Stadium, only to discover umbrellas are not allowed inside Raymond James Stadium.