Regardless, I got into my big maroon Oldsmobile and found myself on Interstate 10 East driving towards downtown. The sky was grey and the day seemed to have an almost erie stillness to it. I drove on freeways that seemed nearly deserted save myself and a few scant vehicles which all seemed to be passing me. I saw the faces of those who hastily drove past me. Men women and children all seemed to be limited to a handful of facial expressions. There was the young black woman who appeared to be ten years younger than myself. She was in a car with two small children and piled with clothes. Her face seemed to convey a nervous desperation.
A middle aged white guy in an econo-box ziped past me and he looks like the posterboy for apprehension. The look on his face seemed to suggest that he was running from the devil himself.
A big black truck roared past me. In the passenger's seat is an elderly Hispanic woman whose face conveys neither fear nor a sense of urgency. Her expression seems familiar, but I can't quite recall where I've seen it. I reach my destination on the nearly deserted streets. An, electronics store which had closed moments before I'd arrived. I was informed that the microphone and web cam I'd purchased for my Mac would only work on a PC and to get my refund when they re-opened.
Law enforcement officials are everywhere. Men and women of the law try their best to look re-assuring as they stand in front of drug stores of men, women and children clamoring for supplies. The cops are scared, but can't let those of us whom they're sworn to protect know that their armor has the slightest imperfection. I leave the shopping center and drive past rows of stores and shops with plywood covering their windows. I can't help but notice that a gas station which I drive past every day on my way home from work has raised the price of a gallon of gasoline 50¢ higher than it was yesterday. It's nice to know that in times of crisis the true humanitarians show themselves.
I passed a homeless man pushing a shopping cart filled with every possession he owns in the world. Where will he be when the storm makes landfall? I passed a rough street filled with wiry junkies and tired prostitutes who look as if they could flatten anything male or female that got too close. Where would they ride this thing out? I drove down a nearly deserted section of Clinton drive (which looks deserted most of the time normally) and put some gas into my aging pimp-mobile. I got back onto the empty freeway for a mile before getting to my exit and noticing that the two gas stations outside my subdivision have sold all the gas they had and had closed shop. I went to the Dollar store (the only thing open) and while picking up something I didn't need make idle conversation with a gent who much like myself was hoping either that the storm would veer a few degrees and miss us, or simply not be nearly as bad as the media was making out to be.
I got home and noticed most of my neighbors had boarded up their homes. I saw one as he piled his beautiful wife and energetic son into his stereotypically suburbanite mini-van. He asked if I was staying and I told him that someone had to guard his house. I entered my home to the sound of a police helicopter and ascended my staircase. I cleaned my Chinese made SKS carbine and load shiny brass 7.62 x 39 millimeter ammunition into it's clip. I've water, I have food. I worry that something may fly through one of my windows or through one of my car windows. I'm concerned that if their is flooding that it not enter my home.
My companions are my computer and television which will both be rendered silent in the event of a blackout, an assault weapon and a razor sharp Marine Corps issued combat knife. I don't fear looters attempting to rob either me or my neighbors, but I don't want to see them either. I pray that my door doesn't explode from it's hinges at the hands of young thugs searching to plunder my domicile. I would hate to take a human life but wouldn't hesitate to do so if given no choice.
Should things get desperate. There is a wooded park behind my home where I know there are wild deer. I don't advocate poaching, and I'm relatively sure that the kind, clove footed creatures and snakes who share their wood are safe as long as I and the others who've elected to stay have our canned goods and our electricity is still on. I have a quarter bottle of a smooth Swedish Vodka, a bottle of chartruse, and a flask of cheap tequila, all of which I plan to consume from either an eagle globe and anchor Marine Corps shot glass, or a tall Houston, Texans shotglass given to me by a pretty girl in a bar who used her marketing degree by dressing as a cheerleader for a big beer company and passing out shot-glasses as her "entry level" corporate job.
I'm either too stubborn, too brave or too stupid to get out of the path of Ike. I'll stay not knowing if it will pass us by and do no damage at all, or if this will be the glorious battle with the elements which sends me to a mead hall in Valhalla to drink and feast with buxom valkyries for the remainder of my days. In either case I'm staying put. If this is the last thing I write let it be said that I regret never marrying or having children, and not traveling as much as I would have liked.
I walked past a mirror a moment ago and saw something humbling. What I saw was a look on my own face which suggested neither fear nor a sense of urgency. I'd seen that look on a face I'd seen on the freeway earlier today. I am in the tranquility that precedes bedlam. My mind is clearer than it normally is and I'm prepared to face the absolute worse and hoping that I'm merely a pawn in a huge media circus who can return to his life when this fiasco has passed.
1 comment:
Wow, Jesse. Great post--you are in my prayers. Now that Ike has passed us by I'm sure you are fine, if hot in this humidity as the world knows Houston has no power. I hope your car survived and that your apt. is OK and that those deer don't tempt you away from your canned goods. Lots of love--you know I've been thinking about you lots over the last few days. Marcy's car had a tree fall on it--she's otherwise fine.
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