“The rain gods have spoken. Your band sucks.” -an unknown prophet
It’s Friday during the music section of SXSW. People are here to party. Dirty 6th is in full rush hour with people at a standstill, waiting on the crowd to move forward. But it won’t. They are all stuck there forever. And ever.
Then the rumors start. The rain. The rain is coming. It’s the end of the world as we know it. We are not fine.
In Texas, there isn’t much rain. When there is rain, it does have a tendency turn into immediate thunderstorms with added flash flooding. But that’s not the worst. The drivers are the worst. People here are unfamiliar with how to drive in rain. They have yet to fully comprehend that speeding up won’t make your car into a boat.
Therefore, any announcement of rain can lead to chaos. In the case, there are added predictions of hail. People are told to see shelter in the Convention Center. Stub Hub is handing out Ponchos in the streets by their concert venue on Rainy. Branded ponchos are some next level advertising. Positive brand associations. Somebody on the marketing team really planned for all circumstances, or is a psychic.
Then begins a mass migration. Every car is headed out of town all at once. Drunkenly they stumble to vehicles and onto the roads to weave their way home. Soon the sound of sirens follow. Because a bunch of possibly inebriated people leaving town all at once during a thunderstorm was never a bright idea.
Between the sirens and the thunder the air has a certain vibrancy. The people that remain are just a little brighter. They are the adventurers. They are the once who came to dance in the mud. Or they are the ones too drunk to remember where their car was. Regardless they stand in the streets together.
The storm rolls on. People seek refuge. They cover their heads with pieces of paper. They check their phones. They go to whatever venue is closest and are forced to appreciate whatever music is there.
The McDonalds house is closed. No food there. The music must cease, at least until the weather forecast turns better. Whoever was supposed to play there must feel a particular shame. Because the rain gods have spoken. And their band sucks.
Eventually the storm passes. There was never any hail. Texans sometimes overreact to rain.