Early this year Walk The Moon announced their touring schedule, opening for Panic! At The Disco, and a tour that would bring them near Detroit come late July. This set a surprising amount of our summer schedule, actually, as if they had gotten to the area any other day we'd have gone to Pittsburgh and Kennycon --- the Kennywood amusement park convention --- instead, but there's no arguing one-day events. Also, had it been any other day, we probably wouldn't have had such a frightening drive in.
The roads themselves weren't bad, although my satellite navigator took us on a lot of back and street-level roads (basically, the freeways required a lot of backtracking which goes against our instincts). And that wouldn't have been bad except that as we drove a major, major storm rolled in. It was the kind of storm the Weather Service sends out warnings about, and the day grew dark, and the clouds got that look of the sky being torn open and exposing the raw chaos of the unformed universe behind it. While we were sitting at a traffic signal, trees whipping around, dimensional rift chasing after us, listening to Pink Floyd's famous ``Some Long Pink Floyd-y Thing'' I thought, huh, I didn't remember this song had a pretty realistic tornado-siren effect in it.
The song did not.
We went looking for someplace, anyplace, that we could duck in and wait out the passing cataclysm, but there wasn't anyplace like a coffee shop or book shop or even, sheesh, an auto parts store that was open at that hour of a Sunday. And then we started getting into areas that were blacked out, in whole or in part, with many traffic intersections having no lights working at all and traffic puttering through at the horrible rate you get when drivers correctly treat those as all-way stops but have only a shaky idea what the right-of-way rules are. And then we got to streets that were flooded, though none so bad as to stop my car at least.
We kept driving, hoping to find a safe spot for the oncoming terror-storm, getting closer to the concert site if we could, until finally ... somehow ... and despite the evidence of the storm having been there, we were suddenly at the concert site, without the rain having touched us.
See, that wouldn't have happened if the concert had been most any other day this summer.
Trivia: Hendrik Andriaan van Reede tot Drakenstein, commander of the Dutch colony at Cochin (on India's western side) from 1670 to 1674, put together the Hortus Indicus Malabaricus, a twelve-volume study of the flora of Malabar. It had 1,794 plates and as published in Amsterdam from 1678 to 1693. Source: Ingenious Pursuits: Building The Scientific Revolution, Lisa Jardine.
Currently Reading: The Spinner, Doris Piserchia.