"We deal with good and bad, rough and smooth, sun and rain - anything as it comes our way," said Mr. Paul, the pub's manager. "There's not much you can do about the weather, is there?"
Besides, he added, "We got past the bombs" dropped in the World War II blitz, "so I think we can get past some rain."
I don't believe he was trying to make me feel petty on purpose.
At least AccuWeather senior meteorologist Frank Strait confirmed I wasn't making a mountain out of a mud pie. He said 2013's June in Philly was the wettest June on record. And our current July - although not yet as soggy as Julys past - has seen bits of rain on all but three days so far.
I meant that sarcastically, but Lynne Varner, a Seattle Times columnist, actually does feel joy in her wet city.
"It took getting used to, but I really like the rain," said Varner, a Virginia native who moved to the Starbucks birthplace 20 years ago and has come to appreciate the "10-month rainy season."
"It makes the gardens and grass beautiful," hence Seattle's Emerald City nickname, she said. And she suspects that Seattle's gray vibe is the reason the town is consistently among those ranked "the most well-read."
"We stay inside and read a lot of books and drink a lot of coffee," she said. "It's nice."
The downside of all that downpour is that "We're not the best-dressed people - you don't want to slide down the hills in your Jimmy Choos," said Varner. And her son's soccer field needed a better drainage system so the kids don't hydroplane into a goalpost.
At least she needn't worry about being caught off-guard without a tube of SPF 50. That's been happening this week in Glasgow, Scotland, where the weather has been bizarrely beautiful.
"We're warmer today than Barbados!" said Fiona Walker, manager of the Grasshoppers Hotel, where people are "bummed" by the sudden spate of glorious days.
"It never stays clear for long, so we never think about sunburn," she explained. "Now we're getting burned. We really don't do well in the sun."
You know who'd welcome the rays? The people of Mobile, Ala., where yearly precipitation is over 62 inches, far more than London or Glasgow. It can make a mess of the ranch where Harry Bryant raises 1,000 head of cattle, some of which he auctions every other weekend at the Alabama Livestock Auction (home of GG's Café, serving homestyle breakfast and lunch).
"You just gotta put on your rain gear and deal with it," said Bryant, shouting to be heard over his grunting herd. "It doesn't hurt me, but it hurts the corn farmers. Then the price of feed goes up and I can't sell my cattle for as much because it'll cost people more to feed them."
Everyone's tales of long-term wetness helped me remember that Philly's monsoon stretch is temporary. And besides, if I'm honest, some of the city's prettiest landmarks - the Art Museum, the river bridges - can look like Impressionist paintings when the air is misty in the early evening light.
That's what Oliver St. Clair Franklin appreciates about Great Britain's precipitation. As Philly's honorary British consul, he spends a lot of time across the pond and says the stone castles and ancient cathedrals actually appear more striking in the rain than they do in the sun - "grander and more majestic."
"It was a shock when I realized that," he says. "But the rain really does make them more beautiful."
Now that's a silver lining.
On Twitter: @RonniePhilly