Portland in Rain

As I hurried across the cobblestone streets, I pulled my collar higher and my hat lower. I had been in Maine just a few minutes before it turned from dreary to rainy. Fog rolled through the uneven streets and moved between brick buildings trapped in time. The wind, fog, and drizzle turned to a cold, driven rain. It was a singularly appropriate welcome to an old port city. I let the dampness chase me through the weathered door of the first unironic pub I could find, ordered a whiskey, and took a seat by the window. I watched black pea coat after black pea coat move past in the mist and gratefully sipped the warming elixir. Portland was exactly what I had been looking for.