13 Hours Without Electricity

Last Friday a short-lived but violent thunderstorm passed through the Twin Cities between 8:00 and 8:30pm. I was driving home from umping a softball game when the worst of it hit. For about two miles I drove the back roads from memory. Rain was falling so heavily that my view was more akin to a winter than a summer storm - pale concrete being the only marker to indicate that I was moving in the right direction. Inside my aging Chevy Prizm the storm seemed severe but harmless. With a mile to go, however, I began noticing how the treetops were swirling ominously. Thoughts of being lifted upward, Dorothy-like, entered my mind. With visibility almost nil, I groped my way home. Coincidentally (?), the exact instant I clicked my garage door opener the lights in large parts of Columbia Heights, New Brighton and Fridley went dark.

Being a more or less rational person, I knew my harmless click had not set into motion a chain reaction that had instantaneously knocked out electricity to upwards of 10,000 homes. But it was still fun to think that it had. The "fun" was very short-lived, however, when a few inconvenient moments without power stretched into hours.

I didn't discover any great truths in the following thirteen hours without the benefit of Edison's brilliant electrical applications. Instead, a few sad, pathetic realizations were reaffirmed. Such as:

 

 

1. I would have made a lousy pioneer. After taking advantage of the Homestead Act, I would have been found on my untilled and failing 160 acre farm vainly searching for a light switch or an outlet or a covered wagon back to civilization. No wonder most of them were dead before the age of 50. They died of boredom.

2. Candles are overrated. Sure, they might be great for setting a certain mood - I get that. Everything in its time. But try reading or writing - hell, showering - with the aid of only a dim  sliver of wax light. Doesn't work. Now I know why my mom told me not to use the shower when the power is out. I was vaguely warned of possible electrocution in mid-scrub. Not true - but I did discover how rapidly a hot water heater can turn very, very cold. Mother Knows Best.

3. I love technology. I'm not just referring to iPads and laptops and smartphones (which I still do not own, any Suess poems to the contrary). I'm talking about the incandescent bulb, the cooling refrigerator and the warming goodness of a stove and oven. You know what I mean, antique-ish technology. My stove was in mid-preheat when the power went out (still bitter about that deep-dish pizza). My fridge had chocolate chip ice cream frozen and ready. I know I could have simply had a bowl before any real melting set in, but I refuse to eat ice cream in the dark. A "man" has to have principles. I consoled myself with the idea that I could still watch Netflix on the iPad. After all, the wi-fi . . . doesn't . . . need . . . el . . . ec . . . Son of a bitch!

4. Charles Darwin was right. His Theory of Natural Selection ("Survival of the Fittest") was not theoretical last night. The only thing I survived was the car ride home. After that, I was a miserable failure; whining about the darkness, complaining about uncooked pizza and wondering when I would ever be able to binge-view Battlestar Galactica again (seriously, it's really good!). If the bears hadn't killed me on the journey to Oregon Territory, certainly my limitations and frailties would have.

Thankfully, at 9:30 Saturday morning the power returned. I celebrated as if the Germans had just surrendered to the Allies. Happy days were here again.

And in case you were counting, yes, I was asleep for 9 of the 13 hours the power was out.

Truly. Sadly. Pathetic.