I might have told this story here a long time ago.  If I did, most of the members reading this now weren't here then and it's a good story so here goes.
   My sense of time sucks but as best I can recall this took place in the late 80s or early 90s.  I worked as a technician for our local Cable TV franchise; Garden State Cable.  It was a subsidiary of Comcast which later became just Comcast.   
    We were required to do complete maintenance on every customer's cable line at every house regardless of what their problem was.  This was time consuming and tedious. The only way we were spared this task is if the weather made it dangerous.  In that it was Summer this meant thunderstorms.
    Consequently my friend Del and I decided to create a thunderstorm.  One of our fellow technicians, Stevie, is half Native American.  He kept up with the traditions.  I don't remember his tribe but he was also half Italian so he called himself an Awopaho.  Del is 1/16 Cherokee and I am 1/16 Iroquois.  Stevie taught us how to do an authentic Rain Dance.  It's actually a very simple step.  As Stevie drummed out the beat on the countertop Del and I did the dance. We did our best to make it look authentic even though we were complete novices.  The dance was over, we had made our little joke, and we went off to toil for Satan.  We worked the swing shift, BTW, until ten PM.
     Toward late afternoon I looked down West Browning
Road at Philadelphia, which was maybe ten miles away. Between the city and I were clouds the likes of which I had never seen before or since.  They looked like low hanging puffs of black smoke. Very strange.  This was early Summer and it normally didn't get dark until around nine PM.  Yet this particular afternoon it was almost pitch dark by 4:30.  It was obvious something was going to happen.
    For almost an hour nothing did.  It just stayed strangely dark and threatening.  Then all hell broke loose...torrential rain coming down sideways with hellacious thunder and lightening.  Usually storms can maintain such intensity for only a few minutes.  This just kept coming.... one, two, three, finally after four hours it let up.  In this area our weather is fairly benign. One inch of rain for a single storm is considered substantial.  Two inches is a lot. Three is almost unheard of.  We got nine inches in just one evening from this storm.  It got so bad that some poor woman couldn't tell where the street was, drove right into the Cooper River, and drowned. 
    The next day our boss, Joe, posted a new memo forbidding Indian Rain Dances in the office.  Was it just coincidence that the worst storm we ever had in our lifetimes just happened to occur right after the only time in our lives either Del or I ever did a Rain Dance?  Possibly, but consider the odds.  I have a better chance of hitting Power Ball for three hundred million.  Believe what you want but to this day Del and I refuse to do a Rain Dance no matter how dry it gets.

Edit:  Not that this has anything to do with anything but
Del died of a heart attack the end of January.  He was my work/fishing/camping/drinking/mischief buddy for about thirty five years.  One has just a small handful of true friends.  Losing one sucks.