After three years of drought, it’s raining again. There’s an upper-level low up there *points skyward, to the south* and a stalled surface front *gestures behind me, to the north* that combined a few days ago to bake a nice big unstable pot o’ mischief, atmosphere-wise. Do I have a future as a weatherman, or what?
What’s that? Stick with the driving? Oh.
Anyway, the result is lots of wet stuff and puddles. Big puddles. A secondary problem is that it’s now the season of the delayed flight. Last night, for instance, I was scheduled to collect a customer from Tampa Airport at 1730, take him home, then return for a 2050 pickup. Normally, that would be no problem, but a thumping great thunderstorm decided to set up shop right on top of the airport at 1725.
Now, modern airliners can overcome most weather phenomena, but the winds and turbulence generated by a maturing thunderstorm can overwhelm them. It’s kinda nice to know that nature has one ace up her sleeve. But that ace meant my 1730 man didn’t arrive until 1845. Bingo, there goes the second run.
Fortunately, we’ve been here before, so when the future is that clear, I ring the boss and encourage him to find someone else for the later trip. That worked, and the other guy was happy for the money.
But now the rains and storms (and dare I say it, hurricanes) are back for a while, schedules become no more than a rough outline. Oh well. Beggars can’t be choosers.