I Survived Katrina

The worst is over. It is up to us, the few still alive, to pick up the pieces and try to move on with our shattered lives, forcing up grim smiles as we pretend that things may one day return to normal. Normal – the word evokes a hollow laugh from us battle-hardened survivors. According to the local news and weather / panic inducing team, the death toll currently stands at: zero. But that number could easily quadruple by the end of the day as rescue crews search for wreckage. “There’s a fallen branch! Get it up, quick – there may be an entire school bus trapped underneath!”

The media initially projected, as a conservative estimate, the destruction of all life in our solar system, beginning with Atlanta. I think the reason so many of us narrowly escaped with our lives is because the hurricane did not, technically, pass through here. It hit mostly two states to the West, which sounds really far away until you calculate the distance between the Earth and Pluto, in which case you realize what a close call we had, at least in astronomical terms.

For me, the ordeal began Sunday night when I ran out of rental DVDs and had to rely on the local news for entertainment. The local weather people, all looking as though suffering from a life-threatening case of hemorrhoids, stared out from the TV at us local yokels and informed us it was time to become extremely nervous. The latest projected path of Kristina’s rampage put her too far away to do any direct damage, but we were told to expect some thunderstorms come Monday night. This is completely different than the thunderstorms we have dealt with over the last month, none of which came from a weather front with a first name. Immediately after being informed that we would suffer from a little rain in a day or so, the news cut to a commercial about the news. Ominous music cued from the speakers, and the voice of hemorrhoidal doom told us to stay tuned for all the latest Katrina developments. They didn’t actually say we would die if we tuned out, but I think it was implied. “Don’t step away from the television. You know your youngest son, the one that just went to the bathroom? He’s dead now, and the last time you spoke to him you yelled because he spilled Froot Loops on the floor. Don’t you feel bad? I’m sure you do. If you value little Suzy, you’ll stay planted. DON’T BLINK!”

I planned to do what you’re supposed to do during a hurricane, which I think is duck and cover, or cower under the bed in intense butt-puckering fear, or watch TV until the power goes out. Whatever it is it involves a lot of girding and sand-bagging and hiding. Unfortunately I was out of meat and books. I could survive one, but not the double-whammy, so I ventured forth and went to the library and Harry’s Farmers Market. The rain was, as promised, pretty wet but not enough to cause any power failures. A couple of street lights defaulted to flashing yellow, but all the mains survived intact. I had a Mexican pizza for dinner and finished reading a book by lamplight.

And so today I emerged from my untouched apartment, drop to my knees (in theory – I’m wearing my favorite pants and the ground is still wet), and praised Bob for not killing me yet again. Which was nice.

And speaking of Bob, he’s got an easy job. None of my non-victims ever thank me for not killing them, so naturally I killed them. Our local team of hemorrhoid sufferers showed a destroyed church on the morning news. People praised Bob and Jebus for obliterating it on a Monday night when it was empty. No wonder they look perfect to you mere mortals. With those low expectations, who wouldn’t?
“How’s work going?”
“Great. I worked eighty hours last week and my employer didn’t kill me once! How’s the wife?”
“Fantastic. She set fire to my car while it was in the garage and immolated all my power tools, but she waited until I walked to the store to buy her some tampons before doing it. Is she an angel or what?”

Alive, out