I spent inauguration day with a dear friend, a generally rational woman with the exception of those events involving vodka or the District of Columbia. Given her level of fear about all things District, many of her trips across the bridge ultimately involve vodka, and sometimes beer, and quite possibly roofies. The daughter of a former DC cop, she came by her terror honestly, and regularly warns me against talking to neighborhood old folk, who are well known for concealing both delinquents and shivs in their pastel bathrobes. By inauguration day, her father put the fear of God and Chief Moose in her, and she arrived with the gear of a mercenary.
We make three trips from her car to the apartment, all body parts save our heads covered in bags and boxes. She lugs in a case of Deer Park, enough soup and canned fruit to feed Hurley for the year, orange juice, a hunting knife, a fireplace lighter, booze, two cans of V8, yogurt, pudding, Weight Watchers cookies, Egg Beaters, and bananas, which she claims will save us from an impending potassium shortage. The six rented DVDs are apparently to save us from impending boredom, which is what I suspect we all associate with the aftermath of a geothermal nuclear war.
Ultimately, she unveils a plastic cylinder – a purse of sorts, complete with nylon strap — filled to the gills with survival gear. Two emergency water packs, gum, cleansing wipes, flimsy mask (1), batteries, aspirin, ibuprofen, cigarettes, ointment, insect repellent, alcohol, hand warmers, band aids, and a glow stick.
Being slow and also otherwise occupied by filing my nails, the absurdity of it all doesn’t strike me until the glow stick.
It’s daytime, I say.
We might get stuck in the nighttime! she barks. I’m clearly dense. And she’s clearly privy to terrorist chatter she’s hidden from me and other authorities.
Really, I state. It’s 10 am. How exactly would that happen?
It might be nighttime when the dirty bomb drops, she says, a statement so serious I almost feel bad for writing the quote on my wrist for later blogging.
She wears the pack proudly for at least six hours, and only once do I consider asking her for a satchel of water product, which I crave with considerable envy after walking at least 847 blocks in three DC quadrants.
Later, I call my mother to lure her into the mockery. Can you believe her? I chuckle. A survival pack?!?
Mom laughs. Remember, she says gravely, if you ever end up wearing one of the masks, do not run. The police will think you’re the one who had the bomb, and they WILL shoot you.”
21 Comments
That’s intense. I mean, if one is that terrified of a 3rd world war commencing at the inauguration, why would she want to go at all? The foodstuff is just good sense, but if you’re planning for death and destruction, there should be something telling you not to do it. It’s like rollerblading–people put on helmets, knee pads, and hand pads instead of saying, “If there’s this much risk in doing this activity, there’s a good chance I shouldn’t be doing it.”
i’m wondering how your refrigerator reacted to having so much food placed in it…
Maybe we should introduce this friend to my husband.
She didn’t bring a mask for you? Some friend ….
I heart your mom.
I can see past the glow stick but don’t get the V8. V8, really? Ew.
This sounds completely rational. Especially now that Jack Bauer is in town. He helped LA get nuked last year you know.
And the DC police don’t shoot people. That’s why they carry the pepper spray. Do NOT ask them to season your salad though. They have no sense of humor.
Really, did she have a mask for you?
That’s awesome. All of it.
Sounds like your friend would eat you first, if it came right down to it.
I particularly like that she had insect repellent. In January. She clearly expected the aftermath would last for some time.
I love that NONE of it was weird until the glow stick.
Your mom gives sage advice.
Y’all could have been part of the group stuckin the Third Street tunnel. Then who’d be laughing…well, it’d have been you, of course, after you stole her survival kit. Bwaaaahhaaaaaa.
I’m confused. Did you go to the Mall? Also: this is hilarious. My favorite part is the Weight Watchers cookies. And the cigarettes.
That is all awesomeness. Complete and total.
Hehheh. People never appreciate a prepared friend until they need one. Now honestly Kris, something she was lugging came in handy in those 847 blocks, didn’t it?
The mental image of writing that quote on your arm for later blogging, is priceless! And your mom’s response almost has me in tears!
HA! Moms are so funny! Mine suffered an aortic anyrism (sp?) and was hauled away on a Life flight heliocopter. All she said was “Does anyone have a camera?” (mom is fine btw)
Hands down, Kim wins for the best comment EVER.
Dear heavens, I’m from the backwoods state of Idaho and I’m not that paranoid.
Your mom has a point. She is pretty funny.
Your Mom rocks! I spent 6 hours waiting for the parade in DC and our main source of entertainment was talking about all of the possible terrorist attack scenarios.