I used to know a guy who was
struck by lightning. I watched him die.
It happened on
May 5, 1995, my friend David's 15th birthday. We were celebrating at Victoria Park in
Irving, TX. There were maybe
ten of us there, along with David's mom &
brother. Another David, this one having the
surname Kinnemer, was one of the ten.
At some point, it began to rain. Soon afterwards, we decided to move the party else
where. We were in kind of an open
bandshell with a
proscenium stage, so we had some
shelter from the storm while we packed up.
Kinnemer was just in
the wrong place at the wrong time. He also decidedly brought a very wrong accessory: his biker
chain wallet.
I remember reaching down behind a low wall next to where he was standing, against the back of the bandshell, to unplug our
stereo. I stood and walked away, maybe ten feet. Not three seconds after I had moved, I saw a bright orange flash.
I felt the ground shake. Birthday boy
David had fallen at my feet. I helped him up, then turned my head to look at
Kinnemer. That's when David's mom started
screaming. . .
At the
hospital later, they told us lighting had struck the
rebar at the opposite end of the shell from where Kinnemer had stood, moved along the rebar, and
arced up to the chain on his wallet. He had suffered
third degree burns all along his right thigh. They told us
he probably never knew what hit him. His mother was in
hysterics, understandably.
I only
regret that I had not known the man better. The last thing I said to him while
he was alive was, "Dude, these clouds look like
they're gonna shit on us."
I had no idea how right I was.