In case you missed it, the Perseids meteor shower peaked in the wee hours of Wednesday morning. And if you’re anywhere in this newspaper’s coverage area, you probably did miss it because all those falling stars hid behind a blanket of clouds and rain.
The Perseids is one of the best meteor showers of the year, although the Draconids in October, the Leonids in November and the Geminids in December promise to be pretty spectacular this year. I hear the Eyelids in January might not be bad, either.
I love meteor showers because I’m easily entertained. Plus they’re free this year in the United States, thanks to a generous corporate gift from Exxon-Mobil. Many other countries have had to trim their showers to just a falling star or two or have had to cut them out altogether because of the global recession.
Problem is, I have a tendency to get wrapped up in the beauty of the heavenly spectacle and forget to use the opportunity to wish on the falling stars. And those wishes come true. That’s how Barney and Betty Rubble got Bamm-Bamm. Plus those showers are especially spectacular out here in the country away from the light pollution of Columbus and other cities. And if you’re not ready to make your wish upon seeing a falling star, another falling star could appear. And if you don’t make your wish before the next falling star appears, said wish is thereby and henceforth and thereto declared null and void.
Don’t look at me like that. I don’t make the rules.
During a particularly busy shower — such as the 60 per hour the Perseids was expected to produce — I could get flustered trying to wish under pressure. I could stammer out something ridiculous like “I wish I had a blueberry Pop Tart!” instead of something truly important like “I wish I had a double-chili-cheeseburger with no onions!”
I have a bit of trouble with getting organized, kinda like a hippopotamus has a bit of trouble getting airborne. So I took a page out of the playbook of some of my OCD friends and made a list of wishes. I took the paper outside with me about midnight and still got flustered when lightning struck nearby.
Of course, I hadn’t bothered to check the radar and had no idea the weather was getting bad, so my first thought was: “Wow! That last falling star dang near hit me!”
And, yes, I know they’re not really stars falling. I’m not a complete idiot. Everybody knows they’re really UFOs.
Once I realized the stars weren’t literally falling, I whipped out my paper and prepared to barrage the heavens with requests. Lottery numbers! Falcons in the Super Bowl! Those last 10 pounds! Norah Jones performing (and swimming) at my next pool party! And, if there are enough falling stars, world peace or something like that.
Alas, the only thing I wound up wishing for was that it weren’t so cloudy. So, once again, I’ll fail to hang out with Norah Jones or win the lottery this year. That was my last hope of retiring before age 132. Guess if I’m ever gonna get rich, I’ll have to do it the old-fashioned way — embezzlement.
ContactChris Johnsonat email@example.com or 706-320-4403.