Rantglass - because that's how things are.


Washed in.

It is like having an army of paper boats being blown across a small puddle by the road. The scene looks harmless enough, really – but not if you are a lone ant treading at the edges of the puddle, in danger of being sucked into the water.

The earth is lit up by flashes of light from the heavens. Stuck behind trails of cars, one could only look on helplessly at the approaching storm. Steal a glance at the drivers behind you and you will notice that their attention, too, is drawn to the dark clouds, which are swiftly gaining ground.

It is as if the clouds are crossing the distance speedily just to maul you down like an easy prey.

There is no other place to turn to; nowhere else to escape. The lines budge hardly an inch.

Inevitably, heavy drops of water slowly decorate the windshield, forming big circles slightly out of proportion.

Plop, plop, plop.

Water trails down the windows in myriad directions, like glittering beads strung high across an arch, turning crazily in the roaring wind. It then grows to a cascading waterfall, flowing seemingly endlessly from top to bottom.

Only then the line of cars move.

Ugh, finally.

Visibility decreased to mere single-digit metres, you carefully navigate through the storm, wipe the fogged-up screen, try to keep a steady hand on the steering wheel, hold your breath, and hope that everything will be fine.

Then, when you finally find the way out of the curtain of rain a good twenty minutes later, you are greeted with a fast-fading rainbow.

Hardy har har.

I wonder what are the odds of seeing a colleague from work in the car right next to yours, in a traffic jam.

Details of this entry.Tuesday, May 16, 2006, filed under Musings.
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