An Essay on Rainstorm. A Composition Writing
"A violent rainstorm thundered across the New York metropolitan area
yesterday," said the Times the other morning, "blackening the skies,
drenching the ground and causing power failures, flooding and delays
for hundreds of thousands of commuters.... The brief downpour,
accompanied by wind gusts of more than 50 miles an hour in some
places, dumped about half an inch of rain on midtown Manhattan
within 10 minutes after it began at about 3:30 P.M."
I was right on top of the story, for I
had entered the Pan Am Building at three-twenty, when the sun was
shining benignly, and, having conducted my business there, attempted
to leave at three-forty-five by the exit on Forty-fifth Street (the
one with the big columns). A whole crowd of people without raincoats
or umbrellas was standing in the large open lobby staring out at the
deluge. Thunder was crashing overhead and echoing off the buildings,
and rain was precipitating noisily onto the pavements.
The people in the shelter of Pan Am
stood immobilized—errands canceled, sorties abandoned, meetings
postponed—like dark statuary against the light. Life was at a halt.
Some of the rain watchers were patient,
displaying a stoic acceptance.