I wandered aimlessly through the bowels of the structure trying to uncover an unsuspecting vendor selling some protection from the rain. The only thing I discovered was one small booth with nothing to sell. As I approached, several other people followed my lead. I walked up and asked where I could find a poncho to beat the relentless elements outside. The bearded hippo rose up from his resting state and sharply answered my question telling me that a box would be arriving here at any time. Resisting the temptation to depress my partially thawed fist into his crumb laden, burly face, I calmly waited in line with others. As I waited for a supposed shipment, the sweet odor of fresh baked bread drifted past my nose. I had no idea where they were coming from until I turned around and saw a man in a burgundy apron removing hot dogs buns from three bags and placing the buns in the display window of his booth. While the thought of a nice warm, processed meat tube seemed oddly inviting, my focus moved toward something else. Standing there, still dripping from the rain outside, I was beginning to grow impatient about the ponchos. At that moment, a newly defrosted neuron fired. My intuition went in to full gear. I thought if I couldn’t buy something to protect myself from the rain, I would just make one myself. Diving at the trash can, I drove my hand down into the dark abyss of the stationary canister. My hand searched for the right texture of what I desired. After rummaging through what felt like an empty pop can and some napkins, my hands flew out of the trash can to reveal to my eyes the fruit of my labor. I was now the new facilitator of three, freshly discarded hot dog bun bags. With the loot in hand, I made a mad dash for a quiet area in the corridor. Like a robber trying to mask their identity, I proceeded to punch the bottoms out of two bags. The other bag I sat aside for the moment. I took the two mutilated pieces of plastic and pulled them over my boots and up on my thighs which were mostly dry by now.