Tuesday, June 22, 2010

When I won't go to the adventure, the adventure comes to me.

The post ww2 era bungalo that we rent was built out of cardboard and paper clips and set on a concrete slab. With the two inch thick walls, it's basically the next rung up from living in a trailer. Fifty years it's been setting on this very spot, and that attests to the infrequency of tornado producing storms in the area. Or maybe the fact that the house isn't a trailer, and the true trailer parks in town form a more powerful attraction for the freak weather.

Anyhow, we do live on a concrete slab. Which rather precludes the existence of any sort of shelter, say a basement, in case of a storm. Stay in the house? Certainly sounds like a plan if you're tired of life.

The thunder had a bizarre feeling sound, like it had been created in a laboratory apart from nature. It was to clear and pure. It almost felt like it was being played in mono as the storm rolled in off the lake last night. and with the storm came the usual rain, though there was a definite lack of wind. Strange, since the storms just seem to bulldoze their way through with strong gusts leading the front.

No matter, I was enjoying the fact that the air was finally cooling down enough to start to think about sleeping. The hot, humid, summer nights keep me awake well past when I'd like to be asleep and I was wrestling with that.

And then the sirens kicked in.

I got up and turned on my laptop while looking for clothing to put on. Fucking Ubuntu took forever to boot and the sirens just kept on blaring. This is one of those few occasions that I actually wished we had television, so that we could check the weather channel to get live updates. No, all we have to rely on is the internet.

Now, supposedly the emergency broadcast station was built for events such as this. You know, the emergency broadccast station that is preceded by those really loud and annoying beeps. the one where they inform you that this was only a test, but had something wild actually happened, then the wailing would be followed by some helpful advice and information. Yeah, that emergency broadcast station. The one that's sposed to pop up when storms hit! The one that was glaringly absent from the airwaves during that last storm. I know, I scanned through the dial. No interruptions, just the same talk and music.

Is our deficit so deep that the government was forced to scrap the emergency broadcast system?

Anyhow, Evil packed up the cats, I grabbed the essentials, my keys, wallet, ipod, phone and laptop(laptop was first, I wasn't about to leave behind to the delicate touch of mother nature, five years worth of hard work), and we headed to party with Josh and Stacey - for our friends are smart and reside in a house with an actual basement. Bonus, they only live about half a mile away.

We jumped into my old Lumina and made tracks.

The storm was insane. There wasn't much wind, and it was barely raining at all. But the lightning was intense. Bolts were staggering through the sky fast enough to keep up with my adrenaline fueled heart. They fell in every direction, but I don't recall too much thunder. In the fifteen or twenty years that I've lived in this state, I've never seen anything like that before.

The Goths welcomed us into their home and then herded us down into the computer room in the basement where they took turns trying to compel their cats into the relative safety of pet carrier boxes. Tell you what, cats do not like to be compelled into small boxes. Now for the count, four adult humans and five cats all packed together in a room that was about six feet wide and seven long. Mind you, this room wasn't empty, it was well furnished, and comfortable for say two. On the upside here, our friends use this room not only for their computing needs, but also as an armory for thier sword collection. So in case the apocalypse came, we'd be prepared with the best that the world of stainless steel decorative pieces has to offer. Huzzah!

So there was sat as Josh and Stacey took turns cranking the radio as we listened to the country station - the only station in town that preempted their programming to give us the sad huddled masses information about what was happening out there. Thanks country station, though I usually think your music sucks, you did come through in a pinch. While we listened we cracked jokes about our inevitable doom and enjoyed some gallows humor. Really, what else can you do while hiding in a small room in your friends' basement? Well, there are a few other options that come to mind, but none of them seem appropriate for the circumstances.

I doubt that any of my companions would appreciate the sentiment of "If I'm gonna go, I'm not wearing any clothes." Nor would the folks when they got the call from the police. so the pants stayed on. This time.

After about an hour of huddling, and making Sparta jokes(the funnel cloud was seen heading for Sparta Michigan, thus the 300 references), we were given the all clear. Evil and I packed the cats, the laptop, and headed back to the house in what turned out to be a rather anti-climatic experience. Oh well. So it goes.

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