Growing up in California, we didn't really have much in the way of summer storms. I mean, we didn't really have much in the way of ANY storms, but especially not the crazy summer ones that seem to happen almost everywhere else. I mean, I remember when I was younger and there would be thunder and lightning, we would actually sit at the window and watch it, because it was such a novelty. And then I moved to Utah and it became a bit more commonplace. And now, like my sister in North Carolina, I'm trying to get used to the East coast weather shenanigans.
This picture was taken (not by me, unfortunately) during a storm on Sunday night, with lightning seeming to strike the Empire State Building.
Last night I went with some friends to the Death Cab for Cutie concert in Brooklyn. The venue was the McCarren Park Pool, which is actually a gigantic public pool that's been drained. It was a very cool venue, and the band was great.
A little over an hour into their set, however, things start to get dicey. The wind starts picking up, and we realize that the intermittent flashes of light are not just from cameras - we are in for another storm. The band looks more and more uneasy as their long emo hair is whipped around by the wind, and the huge lights above the stage begin swinging menacingly. The band finishes a song and exits the stage and moments later, a guy comes out and announces that it's too dangerous for the band to keep playing, and everyone should go home. The crowd seems near a riot, but honestly, there's no way I would want to be up there with the swinging lights of death.
So the thousands of fans herd towards the venue's exits, climbing and pulling each other over railings and up the walls of the pool rather than wait in line for the stairs. By this point, the wind reaches a gale force, and dust and debris are being blown everywhere, including into our eyes. As we crowd through the exit, thunder and lightning rage overhead, and the mob mentality combined with the extreme weather conditions causes people to shriek and squeal at random.
The masses cut through the park toward the subway as the intervals between lightning and thunder grow shorter and shorter. Suddenly, a lightning bolt flashes in unison with a deafening roll of thunder, and mass hysteria breaks out as huge drops of rain come in a torrential downpour. People are running, girls are screaming, and I almost lose my flip flop as we sprint for the subway station. It's pointless, though, as we are all drenched to the skin in less than a minute, and there is a line up to the street to get down into the station anyway. Somehow everyone crowds inside - a steamy, sopping mass moving like cattle through the three turnstiles - and as our clothes and hair drip generously onto the platform we are forced to admit that that was actually kind of fun.