“I want to make one thing absolutely clear: We’re all going to die,” I said as I walked into the apartment. My roommate, Chad, barely looked up from his laptop.
“You say that pretty much every day, but it doesn’t make it any more true,” he said by way of response, then frowned. “Well, technically I guess it is true. Not in the way you mean it, though. What’s the crisis today?”
“You are absolutely not going to believe this.” I pointed out to the window, where the sky was thick with clouds. “I was out just now, right? Outside. In the world.”
“I’m so very proud of you.”
“I know, right?” I beamed for just a moment. “I’m starting to get used to it. But I was outside, just minding my own business, when suddenly — get this — a drop of water hits me in the face. Just, out of nowhere!”
“You mean like a raindrop?” Chad looked up from his computer and frowned at me. “You’re telling me you don’t know what rain is?”
“I, for one, don’t see what Korean pop sensations have to do with this troubling weather phenomenon, Chad!” I cried. “Nobody told me that being outside meant getting wet all the time. I’ve been deceived!”
“Well, it’s kind of to be expected, dude,” Chad replied, wincing a little at my volume. “Haven’t you heard anything about Frankenstorm?”
“Pffft,” I pffted. “It’s pronounced Frankenstein, moron. Also, HallOUween was last weekend.”
(Author’s note: Spell-check is telling me that “HallOUween” isn’t a word, but I, for one, don’t intend to let some machine tell me how to live my life. At least not until Mitt Romney gets elected! HEYOOOOOOOOOO!)
“Frankenstorm, not Frankenstein,” said Chad. “There’s a really big hurricane slamming the East Coast right now. Hurricane Sandy? You seriously haven’t seen this on the news? I thought you were a journalism ma—”
“A hurricane?!” I shrieked. “And they didn’t even cancel class?! What kind of Nazi communist university are we attending?! For the sake of clarity, let me repeat myself: We are all going to die.”
“Uh, no, we’re probably not,” said Chad slowly. “I mean, sure, we’re getting some drizzle, but there are people in serious danger out there. Don’t you think you should be more worried about them than about whether class is canceled or not?”
By this point, I had already set about gathering soup cans and thinking up which of my nieces deserved to inherit my Xbox.
“Not now, Chad!” I cried absent-mindedly. “We’re in serious danger here! Mother Nature’s off her meds, man! Also, she’s PMSing, or whatever it is that makes girls not like me!”
“Ryan, you’re being an insensitive idiot. Again.” Chad pinched the bridge of his nose. “Look, there are people on the East Coast right now who are going through a life-threatening crisis. While you’re freaking out over the tiny bit of rain and wind we’re getting here in Ohio, there are real people losing their homes and maybe even their lives to this storm. Can you take a moment just to keep them in your thoughts during this difficult time? Just this once?”
I looked at him, horrorstruck. “You’re telling me I’ve been living all this time in Ohio?”
Chad stared at me for a good, long time without saying anything. He must have been really sad, because it looked like he was trying not to burst into tears.
I have to be honest: Sometimes I worry about that guy.
Ryan McAndrews is hiding in his bunker until he’s sure the storm is over, but he’ll return to classes as an Ohio Universiy senior soon enough. Tell him Sandy’s gone at rm287608@ohiou.edu.
