Oct. 3rd, 2006 10:08 am
Après l'orogon
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muckefuckKeep the storm stories coming, people! It's events like this that bring us all closer together.
I didn't even notice the first couple thunderclaps. That is to say, I heard something, but I was in Hải Yến, so I initially misidentified it as clomping on the second floor. The first lighting flash probably unconsciously registered as a police siren. But the second or third alerted me to the fact that I might want to be getting home sooner rather than later. It was already raining, but not heavily.
I got as far as the entrance to Nhừ Hoa--only a block away--before I thought it might be better to wait it out. After five minutes that was looking like a poor choice: Mere rain had become a downpour--and it was only getting worse. It was pouring so hard that just the spray from the drops hitting the sidewalk was soaking my pant cuffs, two feet inside the entryway. The sidewalks themselves were covering in layers of moving water. I kept hoping it would lighten up look enough for me to make it the last couple of blocks to my door, but lightning was flashing from several directions. One thunderclap gave me a start like I haven't had in ages, it sounded to loud and so near. I heard the clinking of bullet-sized hail.
Then the wind picked up and began blowing sheets of rain across the road. A young man in a windbreaker sought shelter next to me, checking through his belongings to make sure nothing was lost or ruined. Three small Asian girls sharing one umbrella sped by, laughing agitatedly. One of them lost her high-heeled sandal in a puddle and had to go back for it. After a while, the man turned to me and said, "If you go, you might as well walk, since you're going to be soaked either way." But when he left a moment later, he didn't take his own advice and dashed for cover.
I lost track of time. It was probably more than a half-hour that I stood there until the rain suddenly slowed to a drizzle and I hustled my way down the street, avoiding the tremendous murky puddles which had accumulated next to the storm sewer drains clogged with leafy debris. I knew my street well enough to avoid the worst spots, but I was still thankful for the flashes of illuminating lightning.
When I got home, I found that water had leaked in through several of my windows, which were closed but not sealed. I grabbed a roll of paper towels and got to work. On the plus side, my sills are the cleanest they've been in at least a year; on the minus side, I'm more appalled than ever at the amount of filth I'm breathing in on a daily basis. (Some report recently compared living in the city to smoking a pack a day in terms of increased health risk.)
This morning, I didn't see any fallen trees, just a lot of leaves, twigs, and the occasional larger branch. On the way to work, I could see where the water had risen a foot or more around the clogged drains. Initially, work seemed fine; then I found out that they'd had to close last night due to water pouring off the newly-refurbished plaza and into the entrance. Worse, so much water had made it into the basement that the ventilation systems were shut down while they vacuumed it out. Books in the upper floors were okay, but a number of pieces in the backlog area (which I'm responsible for) got soaked. I've never seen so much water down there before.
I didn't even notice the first couple thunderclaps. That is to say, I heard something, but I was in Hải Yến, so I initially misidentified it as clomping on the second floor. The first lighting flash probably unconsciously registered as a police siren. But the second or third alerted me to the fact that I might want to be getting home sooner rather than later. It was already raining, but not heavily.
I got as far as the entrance to Nhừ Hoa--only a block away--before I thought it might be better to wait it out. After five minutes that was looking like a poor choice: Mere rain had become a downpour--and it was only getting worse. It was pouring so hard that just the spray from the drops hitting the sidewalk was soaking my pant cuffs, two feet inside the entryway. The sidewalks themselves were covering in layers of moving water. I kept hoping it would lighten up look enough for me to make it the last couple of blocks to my door, but lightning was flashing from several directions. One thunderclap gave me a start like I haven't had in ages, it sounded to loud and so near. I heard the clinking of bullet-sized hail.
Then the wind picked up and began blowing sheets of rain across the road. A young man in a windbreaker sought shelter next to me, checking through his belongings to make sure nothing was lost or ruined. Three small Asian girls sharing one umbrella sped by, laughing agitatedly. One of them lost her high-heeled sandal in a puddle and had to go back for it. After a while, the man turned to me and said, "If you go, you might as well walk, since you're going to be soaked either way." But when he left a moment later, he didn't take his own advice and dashed for cover.
I lost track of time. It was probably more than a half-hour that I stood there until the rain suddenly slowed to a drizzle and I hustled my way down the street, avoiding the tremendous murky puddles which had accumulated next to the storm sewer drains clogged with leafy debris. I knew my street well enough to avoid the worst spots, but I was still thankful for the flashes of illuminating lightning.
When I got home, I found that water had leaked in through several of my windows, which were closed but not sealed. I grabbed a roll of paper towels and got to work. On the plus side, my sills are the cleanest they've been in at least a year; on the minus side, I'm more appalled than ever at the amount of filth I'm breathing in on a daily basis. (Some report recently compared living in the city to smoking a pack a day in terms of increased health risk.)
This morning, I didn't see any fallen trees, just a lot of leaves, twigs, and the occasional larger branch. On the way to work, I could see where the water had risen a foot or more around the clogged drains. Initially, work seemed fine; then I found out that they'd had to close last night due to water pouring off the newly-refurbished plaza and into the entrance. Worse, so much water had made it into the basement that the ventilation systems were shut down while they vacuumed it out. Books in the upper floors were okay, but a number of pieces in the backlog area (which I'm responsible for) got soaked. I've never seen so much water down there before.