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Summer Storm

A gasp of wind, a brilliant flash.

“Oh! That was a good one!” I cry.

“My hair is blowing around!” someone says with the knife-sharp edge of annoyance tinging her tone.

I’m dining on the porch of a Block Island hotel with Fisher Cat and a new group of friends. Thankfully everyone’s almost done eating because a storm is barreling toward the island like an Acela Express.

Another flash, this time brighter. The wind is increasing moment by moment, and I can feel my shoulders hunching in anticipation.

“Oh yeah! Here we go!” I say.

I’m a fool. I love thunderstorms.

There are some at the table who are as enthused as I am about the tempest. There are other, smarter ones who are pushing to hurry up and settle the bill so we can all go inside where it’s safe.

We pay up and grab drinks indoors. I’ve never witnessed a thunderstorm on an island, so I’m excited. As the wind wails, the clouds burst above us like water balloons.

“Ooooo, lookit that!” I yell over a rumble of thunder. It’s teeming out, the streets suddenly full of rushing water.

There are quite a few people taking in Mother Nature’s show. Every time there’s a bolt and boom, we all cheer like you do at a baseball game when your team pulls off a home run.

Inside the hotel bar, a man is playing guitar and belting out those sing-along songs everyone knows. We take a break from danger and dance to an old favorite.

“Hey, it’s Bradley Cooper!” the man with the guitar says. “Heyah, Bradley Cooper!”

Guitar Man isn’t talking to the real Mr. Cooper, but the guy sure does look like him. He laughs in a sheepish way, and his friends slap him on the back, laughing with him. They then form a dance circle shouting “Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey!” as different people pop into the middle and perform their best moves. It’s silly and funny and delightful to watch.

The storm is still raging. An explosion of thunder makes me involuntarily yelp. That was a close one, everyone around me says. There are boats in the harbor, and they look like strange gray creatures hunched against the violence. Then lightning illuminates them bright as day. For just a second, you can see every porthole, every rope. Bradley Cooper and Co. are still in their circle taking turns showing off.

The air is electric and not just because of the weather. It’s the excitement of being on vacation, of letting loose and forgetting all about your mainland troubles. I smile toward the new group of friends I’ve made on this trip, and they smile back. Bradley Cooper finishes up a turn inside the circle and gives me a high five.

I love this.

Guitar Man finishes for the night, so my group and I move on to the next spot since it has music until well past midnight. By then, the lightning is done, and the sky is no longer leaking. The rest of the evening is great, too, but doesn’t match the exhilaration of earlier.

On the walk home in the wee hours, rain begins to fall again. The lightning and thunder are long gone, but the wind has kicked up to a steady howl. Fisher Cat and I brace ourselves and walk the silent streets until we’re soaked to the skin and shivering. After the fun and excitement of the night, though, nothing can dampen my happy mood.

Soon I crawl into my little Block Island bed, dry and cozy in my Block Island sweatshirt. Sometimes there’s nothing better than the joyous camaraderie of a group of strangers. The shared celebration of a simple good time. In the dead gloom of January, I will remember this. I’ll remember dancing during a summer storm.

Juliana Gribbins is a writer who believes that absurdity is the spice of life. Her book Date Expectations is winner of the 2017 Independent Press Awards, Humor Category, and winner of the 2016 IPPY silver medal for humor. Write to her at jeepgribbs@hotmail.com. Read more of her columns at www.zip06.com/shorelineliving.