lightning

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/25151253/&GT1=43001

i’ve always felt that if you were ever hit by lightning, the government should pay you as if you won the lottery. because sometimes people say you have a better chance of being hit by lightning than hitting the jackpot. i don’t think that’s a very positive comparison considering the seriousness of lightning attacks.

• Lightning is one of the leading weather-related causes of death and injury in the United States. Most people do not realize that they can be struck by lightning even when the center of a thunderstorm is 10 miles (16 kilometers) away and there are blue skies overhead.

• The odds of becoming a lightning victim in the U.S. in any one year is 1 in 700,000. The odds of being struck in your lifetime is 1 in 3,000.

• Lightning can kill people (3,696 deaths were recorded in the U.S. between 1959 and 2003) or cause cardiac arrest. Injuries range from severe burns and permanent brain damage to memory loss and personality change. About 10 percent of lightning-stroke victims are killed, and 70 percent suffer serious long-term effects. About 400 people survive lightning strokes in the U.S. each year.

• Did you know that rubber shoes do nothing to protect you from lightning? That talking on the telephone is the leading cause of lightning injuries inside the home? That standing under a tall tree is one of the most dangerous places to take shelter?

http://news.nationalgeographic.com/news/2004/06/0623_040623_lightningfacts.html

today, i was caught in the torrential storm while walking near union square. i didn’t have an umbrella since this morning was pretty nice and sunny. so i was on 14th and 5th and it started pouring. rather than run to the nearest scaffolding/covered store entrance, i made a mad dash for a telephone booth. luckily for me, i chose to wear flip flops today only because i thought wearing sneakers with shorts looked weird. another good thing was that i wore shorts. anyway, i was stuck in this phone booth for 20 minutes considering whether to buy an umbrella off the street. as the rain picked up, lightning began to crackle across the sky. and as i sat in an all metal phone booth that reeked of urine, i thought to myself that i could very well be hit by lightning if i stayed here, so maybe i should move. i was afraid someone would call the payphone or my cell phone and that would attract the lightning to that very spot. i also remember hearing that you can smell flowers right before you’re hit by lightning. i also remember (from the show, Family Matters) that eating lots of potassium can make you more likely to be hit (good thing i’ve been avoiding bananas and banana-flavored things lately). i eventually gave in and bought a $3 umbrella from the guy selling them right next to me and walked to urban outfitters to meet my friends. i guess this is one of those fears i have that aren’t very likely to happen, but could very well happen. like falling down some stairs. or being in the shower during a blackout. maybe the government should pay me when those things happen too. - 06.15.08

subway storm

i hesitate before calling the air oppressive because it discriminates against no one in particular as it slowly suffocates the men and women drowning in sweat at times square station. perhaps it’s not sweat that drenches the shirts which cling so tightly to their skin, but the rain that they desperately sought to escape outside. a blue flash sizzles in the black darkness as the thunderous rumblings pound against their eardrums. the 3 train cautiously lurches forward, offering refuge from the storm. - 06.12.08

Haircut

I raced off of the train staring at a blank wrist. My watch is missing. But one glance at my cell phone tells me that I'm ten minutes late for my appointment. As I rush down the stairs I take care not to trip over shoes that have no shoelaces. I quickly sidestep the two teens holding pamphlets urging me to vote as I race down the block to see Carlos, my regular barber. I arrive huffing from the cold, sharp air that fills my lungs. Gradually, the sweat that creeps down my back begins to sting as the warmth of being inside with a jacket and scarf on adds to the previously generated body heat that comes from sprinting up the block. He's with another customer as it turns out. I end up waiting another ten minutes anyway. My running had been in vain. I return to the book I began reading on the train this morning. Kite Runner. I'm already on page 94. CNN plays on a nearby TV while an oldies station fills the room with a quiet soundtrack. As I read, I switch my MP3 player on to find the music magically syncing with key points in the book. I anxiously jump from word to word in an effort to align with the crescendo of the song. The ensuing rush causes me to skip over whole sentences and I'm forced to stumble backwards as the music drifts without me. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the man shake Carlos' hand to signify another job well done. As I curse myself for letting the excitement of matching the story to the music ruin the incidental flow, I move towards the barber's chair and place my glasses on the counter. Carlos looks tired; I'm his last customer of the day. He still manages a smile as he slips the smock around my neck. The usual, he asks. And I nod my head in agreement. We don't exchange pleasantries as we normally do. It's been a long day for both of us. I hold back from asking him about who he'll vote for because that could open up a can of worms. Instead, I let my mind wander, as it normally does during haircuts. I become drowsy as the buzz of the razor lulls me to slowly shut my eyes. I awaken when the razor nicks my ear. He doesn't offer an apology and I don't expect one. I start thinking about Kite Runner again and about the idea of defending someone. Perhaps it's the older brother complex, but I feel compelled to stick up for somebody. Anybody. But when the opportunity does come, will I live by my word? As Carlos unbuttons the smock to shave the back of my neck, I suddenly become aware of Obama speaking on the television. He speaks of his grandmother being a quiet American hero. Meanwhile, the radio begins to play "How Do I Live Without You?" Another instance of music matching life. The re-buttoned smock feels too tight around my neck. To ease the discomfort, I pull at it from underneath to give myself some breathing room. I do this every time and I wonder if Carlos ever notices. He asks if I would like gel and I oblige even though I'm just going to take a shower when I get home. As I reach into my wallet for his tip, I stare at my naked wrist once again. I really need to find my watch.