That morning, i had to go get my blood taken for some labwork. Nothing too serious: thyroid levels, blood sugar. So, had to skip coffee and breakfast. Ended up taking a cab because of my amazing procrastination and self-sabotage abilities.
Leaving the doctor's office, passed some dripping divers returning their rented scuba equipment ('beautiful day out there today– just beautiful diving'). Walked up to the flower shop for a couple extra hours of work and a co-worker's birthday party (a few presents, lots of smiles & hugging, a strawberry cupcake). Waiting to use the restroom in the grocery store, i watch a lime-green balloon bump listlessly against the ceiling lights, floating sideways and sadly.
Later, leaving work, a friend offers to drive me to pick up my bike from the shop. As we get into the van, i say aloud, 'i can not get this song out of my head!!' She counters with her own current mental musical repeater: "The Passenger" by Iggy Pop. Apparently it always reminds her of me because a) i lent her that CD and b) she knows that i love to "passenge". She adorably acts out the way it always makes her want to bob her head back and forth, and then reaches out to turn on the radio. It takes us a second to believe what we hear coming through the speakers: it's... "The Passenger", by Iggy Pop. We drive in stunned silence for a time.
It's hot out, and the bike shop has a huge fan on, going full blast. It's aimed right at a suspended bicycle wheel that has fliers hanging down from it; this contraption spins and flaps wildly as we wait in line. Back out in the bright-hot parking lot with the bike, i hear someone yell down from his balcony to an unseen someone, 'hey- you guys got power down there?'
Aw, that's too bad, i think. That guy's power went out. And on such a hot day.
April drops me off at home and leaves to deliver flowers to a new mother at a hospital farther North. When i enter my building, even though it's not yet 4:00 in the afternoon, the walls skulk silently in darkness.
Hm.
i skip a pitch-black stairwell in the hopes that another one might have some backup lights on. Up in the hallway, people are poking their heads out of front doors. i get inside my apartment and finally realize that this is a power outage. And that the guy i heard in the bike shop parking lot (only a few blocks away) was cluing me in on that a lot sooner. It's probably just a few blocks wide, i think, and probably just because of the heat.
But then my telephone rings and it all becomes clear: the power is out from an hour North to an hour South of here, and clear across the entire state Eastward: from the ocean all the way to Arizona. Damn. Not small potatoes, this. Not likely to be fixed anytime soon. And Nat is far away– up on campus to see a show later in the evening. i begin to imagine the traffic jams and the anxiety building up in the world outside of my apartment.
While Nat waits to hear if his show will be cancelled (it was), i call my mom in a neighboring state to get more news. A later call to my sister proves to be the goldmine: a power company employee in Yuma, Arizona messed up while performing a routine part-replacement. Bigtime.
As night falls, candles begin to flicker in apartments across the courtyard. Everyone seems hushed, but there is still a buzzing of suppressed excitement. A call to my best friend reveals more weirdness; she'd woken up that morning to filthy brown water all over her apartment: the upstairs neighbor's water heater had busted during the night and leaked slowly through the floor, all night long. Her pantry items were ruined, not to mention a lot of towels. And i found out from Nat, later, that he'd witnessed a car crash earlier that morning, while walking to the bus stop. Seems like a bizarre day was just in the cards.
There were bonfires, and glowsticks, and firecrackers, and we waited in line at the store for a half an hour to buy ice, only to have it gone by the time we got to the front door. Back upstairs, we ate cold pizza (damn electric stove!) and watched Return to Oz with our laptop's remaining battery power. The moonlight was so bright; if you didn't blink it began to seem positively daylit outside. Everything looked different in this new, complete dark– contours nudged your mind and nothing was familiar. It was all so eerily beautiful.
The power came back on at 1:30 a.m. Nat claims he woke me up to share the news, but i have no recollection. The next day, i noticed that everyone turned on their lights just a little bit earlier than usual in those dim early evening hours... i think they were all nervous about another night of, well– night.
However, others of us decided to make this a monthly blackout, a monthly slowdown, a monthly quieting: on the second Thursday of each month, it's power off and lights out. Good thing we've always been well-stocked in candles.
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