Later that night, I was sitting on the third-story porch enjoying the cooler air. It was still very warm, but the heat wasn't excruciating since the stars were now shining brightly over the Gulf. 

My thoughts were scattered by the familiar sound of distant thunder. In Florida, the weather doesn't always go west-to-east like it does in Colorado. Depending on a number of factors, weather can be driven any direction. Florida has the most dangerous storms out of the United States. Not only are they warm all year round, but they are prone to hurricanes and heavy thunderstorms, which bring all sorts of fun stuff to the state. Tornadoes are more common in Florida than they are in Oklahoma, and a damaging storm hits the state almost every day. 

I felt safe at the house. It was built to survive category-five hurricanes. Its walls were made out of poured concrete and supported by steel siding, hurricane-grade insulation, heavy construction glue, wood, and barbed nails. Even the roof was built to withstand those storms. It was flat for the most part and protected by 3-inch thick metal plates. Essentially, the house was going nowhere. 

I got a severe thunderstorm warning just as the winds suddenly shifted. To be safe, I moved inside and watched the weather from the windows (which were also hurricane-proof). Even though heavy winds and rain lashed against the house, I barely heard it. In fact, had I not been paying attention to the weather, I wouldn't have even known there was a storm outside. 

I lost interest when the rain got so heavy I couldn't see the canals from the windows, so I curled up in bed to play video games on my phone. A few minutes later, someone came charging up the stairs to the third level. Christian was talking loudly to someone on the phone while he headed for the third story deck. The wind was coming straight from the east, which meant our western-facing third story deck was completely sheltered. I wasn't about to test it though. 

Christian went outside, stood by the sliding glass door with his phone to his ear, and then bolted for the roof-access ladder. 

Protective instincts kicked in, and I rushed outside to prevent Christian from getting himself killed. I wasn't worried about him getting hit in the head by flying debris or getting drowned by the rain. Cloud-to-ground lightning flashed in the sky every few seconds, and our house was the tallest building within a mile's radius. If Christian got onto that roof, he'd certainly get lit up like a firework. 

Turns out, Christian was not actually headed to his death on the roof. Instead, some of our deck furniture on the northern side of the house (away from my side of the house) briefly took off with a heavy gust, and Christian ran to save it. Once I figured out he was not trying to commit suicide by lightning, I helped him move all of the deck furniture against the house in the center of the deck to prevent any of it from being turned into a 60-mile-per-hour missile. 

By then, the worst of the storm was over, but it was still one of the roughest storms I've ever seen. That storm dumped about 6 inches of rain in a half-hour and sent any loose objects flying off into the canals. But, as quickly as it came, it left, and for a half-hour, I stood on my porch and watched one hell of a lightning show from the distant storm. 

Before I'd consider it safe to be outside without cover (off-cloud lightning is very common in Florida, and can extend for miles), Christian actually took off for the roof-access ladder. I snagged his leg when he was halfway up the ladder, and asked him what in God's name was he thinking. He said nothing. He just shook off my grip and hauled ass onto the roof with me right behind him. 

Just as I reached the top, I watched helplessly as Christian ran up to the lightning rod and proceeded to lick that thing like an ice cream cone. During this, it looked like Christian was taking a few selfies just to document his stupidity forever. Turns out, he was Skyping with a group of rowdy friends back home who dared him to lick the lightning rod. 

I stopped trying to rescue him, and just pinched the bridge of my nose in utter defeat. 18-year-old guys are about as devoid of common sense as they come. But to be honest, I don't think they get much smarter with age. I've seen guys as old as 80 do some pretty stupid things, and Florida's largest retirement community is just as legendary as the Florida Man for the ridiculousness that goes on there. Speaking of which, Christian almost became another one of those infamous Florida Man headlines. 

Florida Man Licks Lightning Rod on Roof During Thunderstorm, Dies