Hey, Ted, what you doing?

A rain dance.

Dude, that's not a rain dance. That's a fat kid with a bee in his pants.

Look, I highly doubt the Great Spirit's a stickler for choreography. It's the thought that counts.

She's leaving in half an hour. Dude, these are your awesome years, you're wasting them on this girl. This isn't gonna work.

Yeah. I know that.

Well, then why are you doing it?

Because I love her. I love her! I told her that the first night we went out, and here it is, eight months later, and nothing's changed. So, yes, I know this isn't gonna work. But it has to work! Do you hear me, universe? This is Ted Mosby taIking! Give me some rain! Come on! Come on! Come on!

Oh, come on!



Pushing the front back into the tri-state area, and giving Manhattan one of its worst storms in over a decade.

How about that? He did it.



Robin. Hey, Robin. Oh, thank God you're here.

My camping trip got rained-out.

I know. I'm sorry.

It's not your fault.

Yeah, it is. Come down here.

It's pouring. You come up.

No, you have to come down here.

Why?

Why? Because I made it rain. That's what I did today. And that's enough. I've done my part, now get down here!

I'm not dressed, Ted. You come up.

I'm not coming up there, Robin, I'm not. You have to come down here.

I was gonna

I know.



And that's how Robin and I ended up together. Turns out all I had to do was make it rain.

As I rode home the next morning, the city looked the same, the people looked the same, it all looked the same.

But it wasn't. In just one night, everything had changed.