Where is it all going in such a goddamned hurry? Basically, rumour of a new low pressure area spreads throughout the Wind community, like the opening of a new Ikea, and all the Wind flocks to see it.
Low Pressure areas are like new malls. And like new malls, everyone goes there when it opens, only to find that, while it is twice the size of the old mall, this just means that there are twice as many crap shops in it.
So when all the Wind gets there, it goes “Is this it? Somehow I was expecting more this time around. Don’t know why; seems like we’ve been running around this planet forever looking at new low pressure areas, and they’re never any good!”. And then word arrives of another one and, disappointment forgotten, they all clap their nebulous hands together and bugger off somewhere else.
All this to-ing and fro-ing does have consequences for us on the ground. If word of a particularly juicy-sounding low pressure area gets around, the effects of Wind can be severe. Entire oceans, forests, mountain ranges and herds of animals can be consumed and liberally sprinkled across the world, like an out-of-control game of British Bulldogs in Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory.
If the low pressure area is Up North or Down South, those returning, shivering and disappointed from yet another crappy low pressure area experience, get under the feet of those still hurrying to get there, and you end up with a hurricane.
Even a gentle breeze carries with it an air of possibility unrealised. The Wind gets in sight of the low pressure area: “Is that it over there? It can’t be. It is, you know. Oh, man! Again?” and slows down to a disconsolate crawl.
Wind is the ultimate in peer1 pressure. Forget kids smoking in toilets, or sheep; wind is worse. Imagine you were shopping in Oxford Street, and word arrived that Steve Jobs was distributing free iPod Nanos from the top of Nelson’s Column, wearing a naked Pamela Anderson as a rucksack. That’s the kind of mad, group hysteria, run-or-die situation Wind finds itself in nearly every day. Like the running of the bulls in Pamplona; you can’t decide not to go see the low pressure area this time. That isn’t an option. You have to go, or risk being trampled by everyone else.
So next time you feel the need to jump on that bandwagon and “be one of the gang”, think about the Wind, be original, look The Risk Of Being Trampled in the eye and say “No!”.
1 Surely the word “peer” implies someone who pees? You know, Number 1? If a skier skies and a Seer sees, why doesn’t a Peer pee? Of course, everyone pees. It does, however, make the House of Lords and the Hereditary Peers look even more ridiculous. “Yes, I inherited my peerage from my father.” Yeuch!