There seems to be one guarantee here, which is the torrential summer time downpour.
Unlike the Colorado summer afternoon thunderstorm, this fiasco packs a punch in the form of tropical depression, unloading the gates of a watery hell on this city, washing it clean of debris as streets flood and motorists power through thigh-high torrents.
Now, we are at Paulista, essentially held hostage by this ginormous thunderhead, for no matter the rain gear, it’s a losing proposition.
So, we wait and wait and wait while the storm surges, metro stop rising with inches of water as brave commuters come and go.
Finally, it seems to break, and we scurry home to dryness.