Anyone who’s spoken to me for any length of time is probably aware of my fascination with natural disasters. Especially tornadoes. The mystery, the power, the purple skies and levitating livestock, what’s not to like? It’s like a backstage pass to the Apocalypse every time the sirens start sounding.
The problem is, I’ve never actually seen any natural disaster live. Nothing. No hurricanes, no tornadoes, no mudslides or volcano eruptions, and I absolutely refuse to count the floods of ‘93. And to be honest, I’ve always felt this odd sense of inadequacy at having lived in Iowa for roughly my entire life and never, ever laid eyes on a tornado. Every night, as my friends congregate at the bar to exchange the week’s crazy tornado anecdotes, I always find myself embarrassed and trying to change the topic. Sure, if we were having a conversation in the abstract about tornadoes, I’d be all for it. But people with the experience can always one up you. Nobody wants to listen to you drone on about some lame Discovery show you were watching, when the guy next to you is talking about how his dog was freakishly lanced through a tree and still lived to fetch another ball.
Just once I‘d like the opportunity, when talking to non-tornado-alley outsiders, to boast about my close encounter with Earth’s most impressive natural disaster. “Have YOU ever seen a tornado?” They would ask me, mouth agape, eyes expectant. “Yes,” I would reply bravely, “but I don’t want to talk about it.” Then I’d start to walk away, only to stop briefly, shake my head, look at the ground and say “You’d better pray to God you don’t see one in your neighborhood.”
Which brings me to my main point.
Yesterday morning, a natural disaster that was literally IN MY HOUSE. . . and I failed to appreciate it. How fucking hard is it to miss an Earthquake? It’s not even something you can go out to chase, you just have to sit back and EXPERIENCE IT. The only thing required to take part is consciousness, and I failed.
And now I know everyone’s going to be sitting around hashing and rehashing their crazy experiences with the great earthquake of naught 8, and I’m going to be sitting there bleeding from my ears out from boredom. Every once in a while I’ll say something about how similar that must have been to the Great Floods of ’93. People will nod politely and then go back to their crazy earthquake having stories. And there’s nothing I can do. It’s always going to be like that until I experience my first natural disaster.
The problem is, I’ve never actually seen any natural disaster live. Nothing. No hurricanes, no tornadoes, no mudslides or volcano eruptions, and I absolutely refuse to count the floods of ‘93. And to be honest, I’ve always felt this odd sense of inadequacy at having lived in Iowa for roughly my entire life and never, ever laid eyes on a tornado. Every night, as my friends congregate at the bar to exchange the week’s crazy tornado anecdotes, I always find myself embarrassed and trying to change the topic. Sure, if we were having a conversation in the abstract about tornadoes, I’d be all for it. But people with the experience can always one up you. Nobody wants to listen to you drone on about some lame Discovery show you were watching, when the guy next to you is talking about how his dog was freakishly lanced through a tree and still lived to fetch another ball.
Just once I‘d like the opportunity, when talking to non-tornado-alley outsiders, to boast about my close encounter with Earth’s most impressive natural disaster. “Have YOU ever seen a tornado?” They would ask me, mouth agape, eyes expectant. “Yes,” I would reply bravely, “but I don’t want to talk about it.” Then I’d start to walk away, only to stop briefly, shake my head, look at the ground and say “You’d better pray to God you don’t see one in your neighborhood.”
Which brings me to my main point.
Yesterday morning, a natural disaster that was literally IN MY HOUSE. . . and I failed to appreciate it. How fucking hard is it to miss an Earthquake? It’s not even something you can go out to chase, you just have to sit back and EXPERIENCE IT. The only thing required to take part is consciousness, and I failed.
And now I know everyone’s going to be sitting around hashing and rehashing their crazy experiences with the great earthquake of naught 8, and I’m going to be sitting there bleeding from my ears out from boredom. Every once in a while I’ll say something about how similar that must have been to the Great Floods of ’93. People will nod politely and then go back to their crazy earthquake having stories. And there’s nothing I can do. It’s always going to be like that until I experience my first natural disaster.
Until then, if anyone wants to talk about routine flash flooding, you know where to find to me.
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