I don't even mind walking in the rain. A few months ago after a near-disastrous experience with my umbrella and a post-near-disaster inspection of the accessory's fragile engineering -- the slender metal ribs that so easily give in to the force of wind, the pathetic threads that hold these ribs, in theory, to the bat-like black cloth, the main pole constantly threatening to snap, the points of the ribs bursting through their bindings and jutting out skeletally, daring to poke eyes and leaving me even more exposed to the elements -- I decided to find something better to shield me from rain. A quick search on Google found me the incredible and not-expensive-at-all Senz umbrella. Seriously, check it out. It looks like the umbrella Batman would use and is built to pass even his likely rigorous use. The beast works as advertised and so it has become almost fun to wander in a downpour, laughing silently at the fools still clutching their technologically obsolete and utterly insufficient traditional regenschirms.

But all the umbrella advancements in the world won't keep your feet dry. As I left my building and scooted towards Pentagon Row I realized that the final leg of my brief journey along the cement sidewalks that would take me to the street brought me to a place that would require me to traverse a pool of water, perhaps 2" deep. Not cool. Not far away was the "cowpath" of now mud that, had the property owners possessed foresight and common sense, would instead have been turned into a proper cement sidewalk and would now provide me with a relatively dry and more direct path to the road; but no. So, I was left choosing between mud and water. I chose water, hoping it would not be too deep and I'd quickly get through it; better than slipping and falling in mud, I reasoned. Luckily, the water was not so bad, though it did a pretty good job soaking part of my leather shoes.

The real horror of the day came when crossing the open plaza of Pentagon Row, however. The cement here has always posed a water problem, as the gentle and irregular sloping of the plaza surface has never seemed to have been designed with thought to where water would go during a storm, with the idea that clear paths should be created for pedestrians to pass through. Instead it seems as if it was designed by random, the sloping of the cement and the placement of drains apparently completely unrelated to where people might walk. It's always been a game to try and find dry spots and avoid the deceptively deep low spots when passing through the area. 

This morning I made a grave error while playing this absurd game. I chose to travel down the middle of the plaza as it appeared to be the least plagued by pools of water. Halfway across I made my fatal mistake. I turned aside from the direct path that would take me to the passage beneath Bally Fitness and directed my travel towards the Starbucks, thirsting for a Doubleshot. I knew I'd get a bit wet as it appeared there was a bit of water in my path, but I was not prepared for what I found. Instead of a half-inch of spotty puddles I found myself in bout 3" of water! As my shoes quickly became drenched and tried to run out of the situation in the hopes of magically moving faster than the water could get to my preciously dry feet. But alas, how silly of me. The trench of water stretched for nearly a dozen feet or more and my frantic journey across left my feet soaked through, shoes, socks and flesh. My pants were similarly drenched as far up as my mid-calf and I stood there cursing, not the heavens above, but myself. And the people who manage Pentagon Row.

Sure, there was a serious rain storm. Sure, you can't manage that well. But still, as I gazed across the expanse of the plaza later it became clear that the way the plaza surface was created was not one designed to efficiently channel and drain floodwaters. Important areas for foot traffic were underwater, while other areas that receive far less were dry by comparison. 

In short, it is my belief that property managers and engineers need to inspect their properties now and then to see how it fares under varying conditions. You don't just build it according to plans you think are perfect and then just leave it at that. You must consider that the original plans might be imperfect, you must examine the handiwork under less-than-perfect conditions, and you must observe under those conditions how people use and cannot use the property. I build websites this way, creating a great design but then always reexamining how site visitors actually use it...and then changing the site to better suit my visitors. It's called usability and to a lesser degree accessibility. It should not simply be the practice of website designers, but also of designers and property managers of all types. Products and designs need to be constantly revisited to find improvements, even if only minor, if the experience of the users is to be improved. 

My experience -- and I can't be the only one -- with the pedestrian surfaces at Pentagon Row and River House convinces me that its usability is far from sufficient. It's time for the managers and engineers to go out in the rain themselves, walk around, see how other people use and misuse the area, and then go and make improvements based upon those observations. I want my feet to be dry.