BALTIMORE—While the rest of the planet melts, floods, burns, or all three on alternating days, Charm City has elected this week to audition for a supporting role in a Beckett play: grey, drizzly, and stubbornly indifferent to the apocalypse surrounding it. A stubborn low-pressure system—meteorologists call it a “cut-off low,” locals call it “Tuesday”—has parked…
Jet-stream Jitters: Why Philadelphia’s Weather Now Matters to Mongolian Herders, Dutch Traders, and Your Aunt in Brisbane by Ignacio “Nacho” Calderón, International Desk, Dave’s Locker Philadelphia, that cradle of American belligerence and cheesesteak diplomacy, has once again discovered it possesses weather. Not merely the dull background radiation of drizzle or the occasional photogenic snow-globe flurry,…
Hurricane Gabrielle, or whatever’s left of her after the Atlantic chewed her up and politely spat the bones toward Cornwall, has turned the United Kingdom into a soggy punchline. From Lagos boardrooms to Tokyo trading floors, meteorologists are now the new rock stars—equal parts Cassandra and clickbait—because a storm that couldn’t even keep its category…
