Look it Up

At 9 a.m., the sky was clear and blue, from horizon to horizon.

Then the planes came.

By noon, we were quitting a job that we'd already delayed two days running.

"I thought it was supposed to be sunny today," I noted.

"You know you can't trust those weather reports these days," said Alex.

"Google Weather can't track a damn cloud to save its life? What the hell," I moaned.

Alex glared at me for a moment, his blue eyes fierce.

"You sound like my grandfather, complaining about the weatherman," he said coolly.

"Forget the forecast, we had a clear sky three hours ago," I added.

"Enjoy your half day off and shut up," said Alex. He slowly unbuckled his tool belt and loaded the sawhorses into our work truck.

***

"I want to ride Raptor, Dad," said Levi.

"Sounds good, kid, let's hit that after Gatekeeper," I replied.

Our skin was already red from the summer sun, but we wore genuine smiles and good vibes as we walked through the amusement park. There were no clouds to threaten our day full of roller coasters.

Then the planes came.

We made it through two rides on Gatekeeper before the park started shutting down rides. The sky, suddenly dark with pregnant stormclouds, became a gray wall of "No".

When we arrived at the entrance to Raptor, Levi saw the bad news, and his face contorted into a caricature of devastation.

"Ride closed due to weather," the sad sign read.

"Stupid Ohio weather! It's gonna be forEVer until we ride Raptor!" said Levi.

"Sorry, kid. We'll come back soon."

We were drenched by the time we finished our walk back to the car.

***

On a cold weekend in November, I had to go to Nashville, Tennessee to see some clients. I decided to drive, since I wasn't sure how long the meetings would last. I enjoy driving, and the flexibility was worth a little extra travel time in a car.

Nashville is about an eight hour drive from Cleveland. When I started driving, the skies were clear and so were the roads. My eyes fixed on the winding interstate, I turned on the stereo and blasted my favorite music.

Then the planes came.

Soon the horizon in front of me was festooned in long lines of white, as if thin, pale trenches were being cut in the sky. Too slim and long and straight to be clouds, their white particles gradually diffused and blanketed the sky in a white haze. The haze eventually became clouds. And then I found myself driving 30 miles per hour in a 70 mph zone, on an interstate highway covered in snow. A sudden blizzard blocked my path.

I had to stop at a gas station to rest my eyes and my nerves. I asked the cashier, "when did they start seeding the clouds here? They've been doing it in Cleveland for a few years. This snowstorm isn't natural."

She frowned and returned a blank stare. "Oh, isn't that normal? I thought they always did that. Do you want this in a bag?"

***

I snapped.

I had to have a real conversation about this with someone.

I resolved to wear a big 3M respirator everywhere I went in public, until I dragged some acknowledgement out of someone. You've probably seen them--the kind with the two pink circular filters on either side of the facemask.

It took five trips to the grocery store wearing that thing before anyone asked me about it.

An old man in the checkout line smirked at me and asked, "still worried about COVID?"

"No," I replied. "I'm worried about breathing in that stuff from the airplanes."

He scoffed.

"Those are just vapor trails. Look it up."