Thunder

The sky lit up and rumbled from distant lightning as the patter of rain hit my window. When I first drove out into the dry, dusty plains of West Texas, where dust storms hundreds of feet high can sweep across unabated and coat everything in a fine layer of dirt, rain was the last thing I'd expect to see a lot of.

Since I've arrived in Midland at the end of August, where average temperatures hovered in the high 90s, the temperature has dropped to around 65, the clear blue sky has turned into a dull grey, and the air has gotten thicker with humidity. The skies oscillate between a gloomy Portland-esque covering of grey clouds to spectacular towers of soft white spires rising miles into the air.

Midland has been described by my roommate Lance as a chili bowl when it comes to weather. We'll look out into the distance and see massive storm systems trundling towards us, many of them coming down south from Canada along with cold fronts. Grey sheets of rain will fall on the distant plains. But when the storms hit the city limits, they split apart as if Moses stood in the middle of Midland and rammed his staff into the hard packed clay.

But sometime the storms overcome the prophet's will, and Midland gets drenched in a torrential downpour. In a matter of minutes cracked and potholed streets flood as the recently released water finds that it has been caught in the confines of Midland's non-existent drainage system. Suicide lanes, treacherous enough in normal conditions, double as drainage ditches, and unlucky and unaware drives regularly plow into four inches of standing water. Sections of downtown become so flooded that crossing them on foot is simply not an option. During one storm I had to drive all the way around the block just to get access to a downtown office building because an entire block was sunk under a foot of water.

One underpass leading south out of town floods so bad that 16-foot-tall water marks are posted on the pylons so that in a major storm drivers don't turn their vehicle into a submarine.

For most residents driving their pickups and SUVs, fording such watery obstacles isn't much of a problem. For those of us without lifted suspension, we cross ourselves before we go out and hope our bumpers don't meet a watery grave.

The wet weather also doubles as a form of entertainment, with those around me giving advise to avoid certain roads and to be careful going through intersections. Some people suggested I take the 250 Loop (a "highway" that goes around the northern and western edges of town) as the Loop doesn't flood. I braved that storm and took city streets back home. I made it home with my Prius intact.

When the weather gets really bad, I'll post some videos and photos of it. But so far we haven't had severe flooding or lightning strikes... yet.

Thanks for reading, and stay tuned for my next post on Friday Night Lights.
Twitter: @druzin_journo
Website: rdruzin.wix.com/journo
Work: www.mrt.com