Southern Taiwan shut down ahead of Typhoon Podul, proving that even weather enjoys a dramatic entrance.

The move canceled everything from board meetings to after-work plans, because the forecast required a larger audience.

Officials called it a precautionary pause, a phrase that sounds more like a software update than a storm contingency.

Public transit ground to a halt, leaving thousands to rediscover the ancient art of walking home while pretending not to notice the rain.

Shops shuttered; coffee shops prepared to serve emergency rations in the form of hot beverages and extra foam.

Meteorologists warned Podul could arrive with the punctuality of a dependable train, if the train spent the morning jogging in a wind tunnel.

Local news anchors delivered updates with the gravitas usually reserved for cliffhangers in a soap opera.

Grocery aisles emptied of bread and bottled water; the real commodity was the meme potential of shelter-in-place playlists.

Residents drafted emergency snack plans featuring bread, peanut butter, and a heroic jar of pickles to ‘season’ the storm.

Windows were taped with the ceremonial seriousness normally reserved for holiday lights.

Neighbors compared window leakage to artisanal rain art while the wind practiced its most dramatic ‘pfft’ impression.

Social media overflowed with tips to weather Podul using nothing but a chair and a strong sense of impending doom.

City officials promised the shutdown would be a learning experience, likely to be rewritten as ‘how to nap through a natural disaster’.

When Podul finally arrives — or rolls over in embarrassment and leaves early — Southern Taiwan will have proven that you can cancel the day, but you can’t cancel the drama.