Stormy Korea
As the wind whips off the ocean, the foamy white caps of the angry seas are visible from my apartment window even at this late hour. The sounds of rolling thunder and the crisp blue flashes of electricity march relentlessly closer. The rain pounds furiously against my 10th story windows. I sit at my desk reading the online news.
FLASH! BAM!
Everything I see is drowned out by blinding explosion of white-blue lightning and then, milliseconds later, everything is swallowed in the jet blackness of a world without power. An eerie silence settles over the landscape as the thunder roars its way into the distance. As if angered by the interruption, the rain intensifies its beating on my windows.
I stand and begin shuffling my way to the battery-powered storm lamp. The instant my hand touches the lamp, the clicks, whirs, beeps and pings of reviving technology fill my house. After a few minutes I resume my online reading.
FLASH! BAM!
The world is plunged into darkness again. This time the lightning and thunder are so close that there was more concussion than noise from the thunder as at seemed to radiate outward from my home.
As I walk back toward the storm lamp I have a very funny feeling come over me. I stop. I feel all the hair on my arms and back of my neck rise. For some reason I am compelled to look out the window directly in front of me.
FLASH!
My eyes are seared by the intense brightness of a massive electric arc discharging it’s fury mere feet away from me. I turn my head away from the flash and see a battery-powered blue light bulb glowing brightly. I stare at it for a few seconds and watch the blue glow slowly fade from the bulb.
Then, I realize that hanging across the street directly at eye level with my kitchen window and not 20 meters away is this (part of the window frame is included to give some perspective of how close the crane is to my window):
Giant steel construction cranes make a helluva good lightning rod.