学进去

I finally climbed into bed at 1: 20 in the morning. My friends had helped me celebrate my 31st birthday in the basement apartment, where I lived.

Earlier in the day I had prepared for the unlikely event of a flood. We are about a third of a mile from the banks of the Ahr River. It had been raining buckets that week and the government had sent out a flood warning, though not for where I was. Still, I’d placed sandbags on the floor outside my garden door and put electronics on tables. “Silly bro!” My friends laughed at me for doing that, but I thought, why take a chance?

As I drifted off to sleep, I was awakened by the sound of rushing water, as if I were lying beside a waterfall. When I got off the bed, I was shocked that cold water was rising fast. In darkness, I grabbed my cellphone and turned on the flashlight. When I stepped out of the bedroom, I saw water shooting through the gaps of the door.

I began to panic. I knew I had to get out—fast! In bare feet, I started to make my way to the only escape: the door that led upstairs to the main floor. Finally I made it to the door and tried several times to-pull it open even just a little bit, but the rushing water shut it again. I looked around for anything I could use to keep it open. There in the corner was a coat rack (架子). I took it and, once again, opened the door, throwing the coat rack between the door and the frame (门框) to keep the door from shutting. Finally, I managed to make a gap just wide enough to squeeze (挤) through and make it into the hallway.

I leaped on to the stairs and ran outside. I stood there in the darkness, wet through. What was once a lovely street was now a waterscape, with floating ruins instead of people and cars. The river had drowned (淹没) the neighborhood!