So what is that strange precip that fell today, and other days, on Park Avenue South and 41st Street?
I’ve felt it before, a gentle rain on a day when there is no rain, tumbling from above between 40th and 41st. I figured it was the window cleaners–all 6 or 8 times I’ve felt it, meaning the skyscraper to the west must have the cleanest freakin’ windows in the world.
This morning was different. The curious rain fell in sheets and pockmarked the pavement. It dotted north facing eyeglasses and splattered jackets. I looked east, and saw rain falling across the street–50 or so feet away from where I felt it before–a column of rain with a visible start and end point.
Yet the sky was blue and cloudless. Several pedestrians stopped and looked skyward, wondering where the hell this was coming from. A microburst? An army of martians taking a collective piss? Christ crying because I cut off the woman looking to exit Grand Central earlier in the week? Who knew?
Several hustled to cross 40th, where the weather was, once again, sunny and dry.