Caught in a Thunderstrom

I experienced my first East Coast thunderstorm last night. I guess that statement is not entirely true. We saw a thunderstorm last year in Cornwall but seeing a thunderstorm is much different than getting trapped in a thunderstorm.

My friend Lija is in town from San Francisco. We made plans to meet up at a restaurant in the Lower East Side called Barrio Chino @ 8:15pm. I have been pretty bad about going to the gym this week, so I decided to walk to dinner (2 miles). Walking 2 miles in New York is the equivalent of walking 4 blocks in L.A.: it’s really not a big deal to walk but some people still opt to drive.

We’ve found that the weather reports in New York tend to be very pessimistic. The weatherman, weatherwoman and weather website always threaten rain but it never actually rains. I was beginning to feel quite silly carrying my umbrella around with me. When I left work around 6:30pm yesterday, however, the sky felt like it was going to crack open. Maybe it really was going to rain this time. By 7:30pm, it still hadn’t rained so I thought I was in the clear. I put on my flip flops (for comfort), grabbed an umbrella (just in case) and started walking towards dinner.

I walked about a mile before the rain started. Since it was warm out, it really didn’t bother me. I started meandering through the streets of SoHo and was actually enjoying the peace, quiet and empty streets the rain afforded me.

Just as I was about to start singing in the rain, all hell broke loose. The wind started blowing and all the NY gunk on the streets was sticking to my bare legs (eew). The sky opened up and it started pouring. New York turned into an enormous shower – and I’m not speaking in hyperbole. Sheets of water were pouring from the sky. I huddled with a bunch of strangers under an awning outside of Banana Republic on Broadway in SoHo. One guy kept darting out into the rain, failing to hail a cab at each attempt. The rest of us just stood there trying to stay dry, amazed by the huge cracks of thunder and bolts of lightning. My shoes, legs and edges of my skirt were sopping wet.

The rain let us a bit so I starting walking towards the restaurant (0.5 miles left!), trying to hail a cab along the way. I called Lija from under the safety of some scaffolding only to find out that she just passed by me in a cab. Since the driver who picked her up was already Off Duty, he refused to turn around to pick me up.

The last half mile of my walk was the worst part of the thunderstorm experience. I left like I was in a video game, trying to avoid enormous puddles and splashing cars. Taxis were blocking intersections and clogging up the crosswalks. (One bad habit I’ve picked up in New York is yelling at cabs. I think it’s a way to vent my overall frustration with trying to walk the streets of New York. My yelling habit is probably safer than Elliott’s habit of hitting the cab trunks with his fist when they block the intersection or come close to hitting us. New York is turning us into monsters!). When I finally made it to the restaurant, I was drenched and filthy. Luckily the food and the company at Barrio Chino were fabulous and I was temporarily distracted from my state of disgustingness.

When I got home, Elliott and I compared stories. His sopping wet shirt was hanging on a hanger drying out. I took a shower and watched the residue of the streets of New York go down the drain.

Next time there is supposed to be a thunderstorm, I think I’ll take the subway.