Shortly after I wrote my last post, the storm starting to pick up, bring torrential downpours and constant lightening. I was watching it all unfold from my bed along with Noah and Abby, when I realised that there seemed to be a lake forming in front of my window. Curiosity getting the best of me, I slipped on my rain boots, grabbed an umbrella, and ran out into the storm.
RAIN. THUNDER. LIGHTENING. AND PUDDLES UP TO MY KNEES!
Wait, up to my knees?
The building directly next to MO Hall is OP, our music and arts building, and the back entrance is pretty much a pit. Water had started to gather in this pit outside of the doors since the sewers were so full that the water was actually gushing back out. After only fifteen minutes of rain, there was a foot and a half of water in front of the doors, making them unopenable (which was a fear by my friend James who was inside of OP as it was happening). And, looking in, with the water spilling into my boots and the rain lashing at me from every direction, I realised that OP was flooding. Actually flooding. Over one hundred feet in, you could see water flowing into the building.
I immediately ran back to the dorms, yelling at everyone in the lounge that it was actually flooding (as opposed to me exaggerating). Noah and Jenn came with me only five minutes later, but by that point, the rain had suddenly gone from stormy downpour to stormy sprinkle, and the foot and a half of water had immediately receeded. But the same could not be said for the water in OP. It was pushing further and further into the building, and more students started showing up to see what it had reached. Quickly, several students started clearing the water out of our performance hall and instrument storage areas with bath towels and stolen mops.
Noah and I, without knowing that the students were starting to clean up, ran out to go to Red Barn Park, a quaint park on campus with a small stream running through it. But when we got to even the Quad, we realised that there were worse floods on campus–the quad had filled in to create a foot tall lake, Magruder had flooded with water and mud all the way into the basement and lab areas, and everything along the small, usually six inches deep stream was flooded. We’re talking ten plus feet of water running through this stream, over filling onto roads, taking over entire parking lots, cars having to be towed because the water was literally inside of them.
And Red Barn Park?
Red Barn Lake. It was so flooded that you could only see the top foot of railing from a bridge that normally stood about six feet over the stream. This would make the stream (and surrounding areas of grass and picnic tables), I don’t know, ten feet deep? Yeah, about.
But you know what? Destruction is pretty cool. Sure, it’s messy and inconvenient, but it brings people together and makes for some awesome memories. I mean, Noah and I met a ton of other people on campus who were roaming around to see the flood damage, and it’s still so neat that we can pick up conversations with complete strangers and have adventures after only knowing each other for a minute. It’s something I’ve really enjoyed about campus.
So, that’s why I now trust flash flood warnings in Kirksville. Sure, I’m still not going to trust them when in Saint Charles (Chuck just freaks out because of the rivers), but here, they’re actually pretty serious.
Oh, and I’ll also remember to not park my car any where near the parking lots by the stream. I don’t want two feet of water inside of my truck.
“Do you remember the 21st night of September?
Love was changing the minds of pretenders
While chasing the clouds away”