Looking out the front windows at home, the skies shone clear and sunny. It wasn’t until we’d piled into the car and were well on our way that we noticed the dark clouds following us. Our reaction?
“Meh.”
We’d just returned from a state-side shopping trip that had us facing clouds much like the ones chasing us that Sunday and while the American clouds had flashed and boomed, they didn’t let a single drop fall and instead passed us over completely and disappeared. Why wouldn’t this be the same?
When we arrived at the Ribfest, it was pretty clear that the clouds were not just going to pass us by as before. So, we made the decision to divide and conquer the food options before meeting to find seats in the food tent. Mission accomplished. Just as a light rain began to fall, we were sitting ourselves down, dry under the tent, to fest on our rack of ribs and blooming onion with extra ranch sauce.
We took in the sights as we ate. The rain was doggedly persistent, but not the heaviest of downpours. The band didn’t cower away, but instead completed its set before clearing the stage for Mother Nature. Other rib enthusiasts circled the tent, looking for a way in and a dry seat while spending more time shielding their precious fare from the rain rather than themselves.
It didn’t take long before everyone had either found a seat or had piled in to stand under the tent’s sprawling shelter. Lightning and thunder had crept in along with the rain, but, like the rain, weren’t enough to distract anyone from digging in.
And then.
CRACK!
The loudest crack of lightning – lightning, not thunder – I’d ever heard erupted overhead. The surprise and volume of the lightning made everyone duck their heads simultaneously as if it would have helped to escape the boom. Screams sounded all through the tent. A woman trembled, “was that a gun shot?” Malcolm assured her it wasn’t – it was too loud.
The screams we had first attributed to being from frightened children had not subsided. As they wouldn't stop, we looked for the reason: seeing the commotion halfway down the tent from us, we knew it before we saw it – someone had been struck by that lightning.
On-site paramedics flew into the crowd throwing tables and chairs through the air and out into the rain to gain access and make way. Security personnel swarmed those of us still shockingly seated and ordered us out of the tent. As we made our way away through the drizzle, we caught snatches of speculation.
“Did you feel that? I felt the shock in my legs.”
“I felt that through the ground.”
“Someone got hit by the lightning.”
“There were a few ladies lying on the floor over there.”
“Man, that’s exactly where we were sitting before we decided to move.”
As we neared the main intersection, emergency vehicles began pouring onto the scene. Fire, EMS, police - it felt like all hands were on deck; definitely more than enough to treat just a few people.
When it was all said and done (and Malcolm and I were at Bass Pro Shops after finishing our ribs at home), I was innudated with updates as to what had happened. Lightning had indeed struck our lightning-rod-equipped-tent. It had run down to the ground, and then back up through the bodies of those in the immediate vicinity of the struck pole. 17 people were treated for non-life threatening injuries - mostly burns, but some trampling too - and the Ribfest had closed shortly after we'd been evacuated.
A close call, but we were witness to an awesome display of Mother Nature's wrath and lived to tell the tale.
We also bought a lottery ticket, but didn't win. :( I guess they did say that it doesn't strike twice.
...
Weather update for today: Toronto's on tornado watch, extreme thunderstorm watch, and extreme heat alert. If Mother Nature ate corn flakes, some asshole apparently peed in them.
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