(double spacing in between paragraphs isn't going away. deal.)
This is the fb post I wrote upon returning unharmed from higher ground after the Japanese earthquake spawning tsunami warning of March 11, 2011:
This is the fb post I wrote upon returning unharmed from higher ground after the Japanese earthquake spawning tsunami warning of March 11, 2011:
Guam is good!! Worry not. Mariana Trench totally melted that tsunami. Note: I did pack an emergency bag (full of journals and nothing survival ready) and evacuated to higher ground in a shaky, paranoid state. (I do not do well in emergency situations. Prairie girl dealing with thoughts of a "wall of water" = run, run, as fast as you can.)
Yeah. It's been over a month since that fated Friday in March.
Here's what I wrote on the roof of the garage:
3.11.11
Tokyo: 8.9 on the Richter Scale.
What to pack in an emergency evacuation?
-Panic. Written words taken. Memories irreplaceable. Screw things. Shaky hands.
7:09pm said to hit Guam
7:13pm
on the roof of the
parking garage.
Silly off-islanders, don't you know we got this Mariana Trench? Chill.
Eyes straining in surveillance of the sea, searching for the drawback of the water.
I don't do well in natural disasters: fact.
7:19pm I think we're okay, but maybe Mother Nature doesn't run on our clocks.
For the things I packed... my backpack already contained my wallet, sunscreen, banana chips, dice for Yahtzee, notebook [for Yahtzee - we will be entertained!], notepad, pen, water... things packed after being informed of potential imminent threat:
- journals (all!)
- Shel Silverstein's "The Giving Tree" that my girls Christine, Erin and Mariko wrote in and gave to me the morning they drove me to Korea via O'Hare.
- 19th birthday book my dear friend Alli made for me
- the Buddha my mom got for me when she visited me in Korea last July
- letters I need to mail to my friends
- address book with stamps tucked inside (forever stamps, hello!)
- flashlight
- external hard drive
- my roommate's driver's license and one of her belly dancing jangley belts (I didn't know; I was trying to help!)
- my passport (on running back to the room)
- sweatshirt
Mind you I was still not dressed appropriately as I was still in my bathing suit (Brits call 'em "swimming costumes"! Hilarious, right? And Kiwis say "togs" which doesn't make any sense at all, but Flight of the Conchords are from there, so I guess it does.) with a beach dress thrown over and flip flops. I did pack a flashlight, right? That's emergency stuff.
We'll go backwards and then forwards from here. To the past of the past: after spending the afternoon hanging out around the tide pools past the sewage treatment plant (quite a distance past, let's be clear) before Shark's Hole, swimming amongst the blooming life in the low tide and sitting underneath the jungle trees with buddies Dave (local), Lindsay, Ryann and Bobby, we rolled through traffic to fill up Dave's tank as thanks. At the gas station we listened to the news of Japan with dropped jaws and 7:09 pm rang in our ears along with the island beats bouncing in the background. "I think we'll be okay, did you hear the music in the background? If this was a real emergency there would be a siren. Right?" we tried to convince each other all would be alright. Dave didn't seem worried, he said the Mariana Trench has melted every water danger in the past. "There's a first time for everything," I stated skeptically in the backseat.
We were rushing home to go to a department meeting, and Ryann had to work Eve - both things at 6. The meeting was inside the racquetball court, and I was watching the wind whip the palm tree fronds out of the small window, barely registering the words the General Manager was trying to ease our worried minds with. Things like, "A tsunami isn't some Hollywood wave that's 100 feet tall and then goes away, it's a 10- to 20-foot wall of water that rushes to shore destroying everything in its path." Oh, well I feel a lot better now. The other managers stepped in after the GM finished his pep talk (we were doing a good job so we could all die happy) and everything turned to clocking in on time and attending to the guests' needs before our own. One of the managers is known for going over allotted time and I started getting nervous as the clock neared 6:45pm. I kept imagining Titanic-like scenes of the water sweeping over different parts of the resort - after all, we are located on the lowest point in Guam. Then, Ryann came in ghost-faced white and I perked up trying to hear what she was whispering to Talkie. Something about how someone's cousin works for the National Guard or Homeland Security and we needed to move to higher ground. I hopped up on my haunches all excited and nervous, looking around, I shout-whispered to my stagnant co-workers, "Well what are we waiting for?" My manager didn't appreciate the hysteria and snapped that I could go if I really wanted to. Slightly shamed I sat back and kept track of my watch. I'd give him seven more minutes than I was booking it. He finished in six.
After the meeting I sped walked to clock out and talked nervously with co-workers, worrying if management was going to tell the guests at the water park what was going on or if we were going to have another Thailand 2004 on our hands. Once in Tower (where we off-islanders all live) my friend Amanda told me she talked to her dad and that he suggested she pack a bag and head to higher ground. "What do I pack?" I yelled as I ran to my room. "Things you can't replace!" she shouted to my back. I stood in the middle of my room for a second before I began frantically running back and forth between dresser, bed, desk and night stand, and back again. Muttering and measuring, I shoved random articles (you saw) of things irreplaceable into my backpack and ran out the door realizing I had nothing protective or sustainable if a tsunami really hit. Again, I kept getting Titanic-view, imagining water rushing through the hallways, scattering the trash and wardrobe remnants of Clubmates left and gone.
Once back in the hall, I met up with Amanda, Christina and Jessica and we headed - well, I ran up the hill and up the seven flights of stairs in the parking garage. Panting upon reaching the roof, I hoisted myself on top of the slab covering the stairwell and stared out at the black sea. It was impossible to see anything, but I kept trying to open my eyes wider in hopes of being able to detect the coming doom.
If you think I freaked out, one of my friends ran out of the park with a life vest and a helmet (I'm not going to name names) on head. I have been known to over-exaggerate weather warnings in the past. When I was eight or so, my mom, step-dad (Mike) and I went to watch "The Music Man" at Pioneer Park's Pinewood Bowl in Lincoln, NE. Sometime in the show it started raining and the wind began howling, I just missed getting knocked out when the set started blowing away. Right around that point the lights went out and I started screaming, "We're all going to die! We're all going to die!" My mom of course laughed at me as she tried to calm me down and stick with Mike on the way to the car. The drive back was no better as the radio was on and notified us of "cyclone spotted" and I continued to sob in the back seat as Mike tried to navigate around the downed trees. I wanted to sleep in the basement that night, and the house on Sumner street had the scariest basement in the world - a stringed light bulb and cement and kitty litter boxes and laundry - I didn't do it, but I wanted to. Obviously everything turned out okay and my mom and I took a walk the next morning to survey the damage in the neighborhood.
There was also a time when we lived in St. Joe and there was a tornado warning, and it was sometime after "Twister" and I was old enough to know better, but I was convinced we were going to be crushed or taken away and I called my dad in New Jersey and through tears told him that I loved him. He laughed and told me to calm down, or something, and that we'd talk later. That's what he thought! I hoped to make it through the night. Again, I did.
In short, I'm not the girl to mark as leader in the post-apocalyptic world [of 2013].
Here's what I wrote on the roof of the garage:
3.11.11
Tokyo: 8.9 on the Richter Scale.
What to pack in an emergency evacuation?
-Panic. Written words taken. Memories irreplaceable. Screw things. Shaky hands.
7:09pm said to hit Guam
7:13pm
on the roof of the
parking garage.
Silly off-islanders, don't you know we got this Mariana Trench? Chill.
Eyes straining in surveillance of the sea, searching for the drawback of the water.
I don't do well in natural disasters: fact.
7:19pm I think we're okay, but maybe Mother Nature doesn't run on our clocks.
For the things I packed... my backpack already contained my wallet, sunscreen, banana chips, dice for Yahtzee, notebook [for Yahtzee - we will be entertained!], notepad, pen, water... things packed after being informed of potential imminent threat:
- journals (all!)
- Shel Silverstein's "The Giving Tree" that my girls Christine, Erin and Mariko wrote in and gave to me the morning they drove me to Korea via O'Hare.
- 19th birthday book my dear friend Alli made for me
- the Buddha my mom got for me when she visited me in Korea last July
- letters I need to mail to my friends
- address book with stamps tucked inside (forever stamps, hello!)
- flashlight
- external hard drive
- my roommate's driver's license and one of her belly dancing jangley belts (I didn't know; I was trying to help!)
- my passport (on running back to the room)
- sweatshirt
Mind you I was still not dressed appropriately as I was still in my bathing suit (Brits call 'em "swimming costumes"! Hilarious, right? And Kiwis say "togs" which doesn't make any sense at all, but Flight of the Conchords are from there, so I guess it does.) with a beach dress thrown over and flip flops. I did pack a flashlight, right? That's emergency stuff.
We'll go backwards and then forwards from here. To the past of the past: after spending the afternoon hanging out around the tide pools past the sewage treatment plant (quite a distance past, let's be clear) before Shark's Hole, swimming amongst the blooming life in the low tide and sitting underneath the jungle trees with buddies Dave (local), Lindsay, Ryann and Bobby, we rolled through traffic to fill up Dave's tank as thanks. At the gas station we listened to the news of Japan with dropped jaws and 7:09 pm rang in our ears along with the island beats bouncing in the background. "I think we'll be okay, did you hear the music in the background? If this was a real emergency there would be a siren. Right?" we tried to convince each other all would be alright. Dave didn't seem worried, he said the Mariana Trench has melted every water danger in the past. "There's a first time for everything," I stated skeptically in the backseat.
We were rushing home to go to a department meeting, and Ryann had to work Eve - both things at 6. The meeting was inside the racquetball court, and I was watching the wind whip the palm tree fronds out of the small window, barely registering the words the General Manager was trying to ease our worried minds with. Things like, "A tsunami isn't some Hollywood wave that's 100 feet tall and then goes away, it's a 10- to 20-foot wall of water that rushes to shore destroying everything in its path." Oh, well I feel a lot better now. The other managers stepped in after the GM finished his pep talk (we were doing a good job so we could all die happy) and everything turned to clocking in on time and attending to the guests' needs before our own. One of the managers is known for going over allotted time and I started getting nervous as the clock neared 6:45pm. I kept imagining Titanic-like scenes of the water sweeping over different parts of the resort - after all, we are located on the lowest point in Guam. Then, Ryann came in ghost-faced white and I perked up trying to hear what she was whispering to Talkie. Something about how someone's cousin works for the National Guard or Homeland Security and we needed to move to higher ground. I hopped up on my haunches all excited and nervous, looking around, I shout-whispered to my stagnant co-workers, "Well what are we waiting for?" My manager didn't appreciate the hysteria and snapped that I could go if I really wanted to. Slightly shamed I sat back and kept track of my watch. I'd give him seven more minutes than I was booking it. He finished in six.
After the meeting I sped walked to clock out and talked nervously with co-workers, worrying if management was going to tell the guests at the water park what was going on or if we were going to have another Thailand 2004 on our hands. Once in Tower (where we off-islanders all live) my friend Amanda told me she talked to her dad and that he suggested she pack a bag and head to higher ground. "What do I pack?" I yelled as I ran to my room. "Things you can't replace!" she shouted to my back. I stood in the middle of my room for a second before I began frantically running back and forth between dresser, bed, desk and night stand, and back again. Muttering and measuring, I shoved random articles (you saw) of things irreplaceable into my backpack and ran out the door realizing I had nothing protective or sustainable if a tsunami really hit. Again, I kept getting Titanic-view, imagining water rushing through the hallways, scattering the trash and wardrobe remnants of Clubmates left and gone.
Once back in the hall, I met up with Amanda, Christina and Jessica and we headed - well, I ran up the hill and up the seven flights of stairs in the parking garage. Panting upon reaching the roof, I hoisted myself on top of the slab covering the stairwell and stared out at the black sea. It was impossible to see anything, but I kept trying to open my eyes wider in hopes of being able to detect the coming doom.
I didn't get the memo of making a worried face in the next photo. Slightly disappointed for such a big buildup with no show, but so glad for safety we returned to Tower. Those stragglers we found wandering around Tower after 7:30pm called for "Casa Nami in case of tsunami." (Casa Nami is a bar.) We walked up the hill, "emergency" packs still in tow, and had a beer while we watched the tsunami wash destruction over Japan, feeling horrible and helpless for all those people involved.
There was also a time when we lived in St. Joe and there was a tornado warning, and it was sometime after "Twister" and I was old enough to know better, but I was convinced we were going to be crushed or taken away and I called my dad in New Jersey and through tears told him that I loved him. He laughed and told me to calm down, or something, and that we'd talk later. That's what he thought! I hoped to make it through the night. Again, I did.
In short, I'm not the girl to mark as leader in the post-apocalyptic world [of 2013].
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