A local library reported an average of 3700 visitors over the past three days. This is nearly double the amount of patrons that visit on a normal summer day. What's the deal?
Power outage!
But why the library?
Because the library has free wifi!
Honestly, you didn't think that just because we lost power on a massive scale - for such an extended period of time - that everybody decided en masse to rediscover books? No; Facebook, Twitter, dancing cats, all of our extended internet family members demand our daily attention, no matter what disaster presents itself. I admit it: that's why I'm here.
The Chicagoland area suffered severe winds produced by what is known as a bow echo storm. Bow echo describes any storm with winds powerful enough to tear the skin off your face like tar paper from a lean-to. Now that I know what it is called, I no longer am afraid. Now that I know the shape of the storm that blew my house into the stone age, I don't feel so bad. This hurricane-like storm produced straight line winds that blew through the metroplex area at 75 miles per hour, tossing trees and telephone poles into power lines, houses, automobiles, and McDonald's storefronts as easily as a parade queen tossing candy from the Rotary Club float. One stretch of road nearby lost seven utility poles. My power will not be restored for a week. Com Ed told me we were last on the list; I did not ask them why for fear of retaliation. Utility workers in disater situations respond to whining with a certain edginess bordering on mania.
Speaking of crazy: My friend Randy enjoyed his Amish Moment by sitting outside on his porch. It was one of the few times he can remember enjoying the summer scene without the constant roar of air conditioning units. It was a trade he would gladly make again. I was thinking along the same lines, but alas, my next door neighbor found himself a generator. Here's the trick-bag: If I close the windows to muffle the loud, droning, obnoxious, relentlessly mind-melting growl of the generator, I get no air flow. If I open the window, I get noise and gasoline fumes. I have not slept in 72 hours. My neighbor asked with a sheepish grin if the noise from her generator was bothering me. "No," I said, "it's not bothering me at all - except for the odd twitch in my brain that I sometimes recognize as a prelude to murder."
I found some relief by sitting out on the front porch, but the 2nd neighbor smugly demonstating his superior survival skills is the guy right across the street from me. Only two in the whole subdivision, and I'm the meat between two pieces of generator bread. Besides, if I fell asleep on the front porch in this community the police would pick me up for vagrancy. We live in a proper town.
(Remember when people used to sleep on the fire escapes in the city on a hot summer night?
Remember that?
Neither do I. But I thought it was cool in Rear Window.)
Living in the dark is okay for a while, you know, eating dinner Little House On The Prairie style. It's an adventure. After a while, though, the ice bags and D cell batteries and grilling whatever's left in the cooler start to wear on you.
That's why I take refuge in the library. Besides, it's air-conditioned.
I think I'll sleep here tonight.
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