Sunday, March 10, 2002

During the N's and the O's of an A-to-Z Pink Floyd playlist on the occasional classic rock oasis I drove through what felt to be a movie set for a cinematic treatment of the apocalypse in Middling City exurbs.
No people. Trees upended. Old metal hotel signs lying down. A fallen phone booth. And the sky was an orange-blue with swirling dark clouds.
And I thought of Bob. Hurricaine Bob.
How I had the night off (many years ago) in Maine @ art teaching @ camp gig and thought Fuck it, so it's a hurricaine, it's my night off and I am so like outta here. And they let me drive off in my little car, knowing there's no stopping an unstoppable woman on a mission such as myself - and they had 200 kids to worry about. And I drove into Bob, branches flying past my car windows, visibility comparable to blizzard driving conditions until I had to admit that facing the choices of 1. seeing my special pal in Portland and perhaps seeing an untimely death versus 2. heading to camp and facing disaster with a slew of hysterical 8-12 year olds, staffers, etc. choice 2 was probably a good idea.
And then me and camp foundress came up with an evacuation plan for the campers and staff, we took over the gym and offices of a public school for a day and night, I tried to jump start the school's generator but didn't know the thing needed its water replaced until a crusy old man showed up from nearby, I inadvertently set off air raid sirens when trying to pull breakers, then didn't sleep all night and then visited camp to inspect damage with foundress the next AM saw old pine trees sawed in half and wires lying on the ground and then helped ship all campers back to their respective homes and complicated lives the next afternoon.
Nothing nearly that exciting happened during this afternoon's Pink Floyd driveby but the music fit the landscape and, for a moment, I was in a 1/2 hourlong movie in which a Middling City is vaporized, the skies are troubling and the only person around is me, Perfect and intrepid Nancy. Credits roll. And no Roger Waters to sue my ass for not paying for usage of his music on my soundtrack.

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