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Blackout and lady flasks

Power to the people

Our candles
Our candles

What were you doing when life as we knew it shut down and the universe was nudged off-kilter for an entire eight hours throughout the county? Around 300 people were stuck in elevators. Some were trapped on rides at Legoland. Too many were colliding with other cars at one of the hundreds of intersections with no working traffic lights. Me? I was standing at my desk, editing video footage when everything went black. Not outside, of course, the sun was still strong, and oppressive once the air conditioning cut out. I thought it was a fuse, or some electrical problem.

The first thing I did was call my property manager. She texted me back: Power's out in all San Diego. All? Couldn't be. So I went to Twitter on my recently charged iPhone. And, while David listened on, I recited the surprising reports that kept popping up in my feed. "Chula Vista... Orange County... Holy shit, El Centro! It's everywhere, it's from up north of Camp Pendleton all the way down to Ensenada. This is insane."

It was exciting. Here we were, going about our usual day, working, hanging, surfing headlines on our favorite news sites, and then -- something different. People began filing outside. Neighbors sharing stories, updates they'd gleaned from the radio or their own handheld devices, unplugged but still jacked in, all of us. I was delighted. "Surely they'll understand why I can't make the deadline now," I said. "I can't work. It's not that I don't want to. I can't." After three months of working nonstop, seven days a week, with only the odd respite for food and drink, I was forced to take a break. To do nothing. Suddenly, I was as terrified as I was excited.

I'd been meaning to take a shower all day, but had been steadfast at my computer. David found our box of candles and prepped the windowless bathroom for me. In the dim light, with the scented candles, and the warm water, I took a deep breath and let it out with a long, pleasant sigh that vibrated in my chest.

Once I was dressed, I looked around for something to do besides check my Twitter feed. "Don't we have rose chilling in the fridge?" David nodded. "Let's get it, and the cheese. We wouldn't want it all to go bad," I said. We set up a picnic. It was only 5:30, and the windows let in plenty of daylight for our table. Guilt and habit drove me to Twitter, to check in, report to David, and type my own updates. A few hours later, I watched the sunset in the northwest, while downtown, southeast of me, all those familiar lights failed to sparkle. It was surreal.

"We'll be able to see the stars," David said.

"Not as well as we would if we lived farther from the airport." The lights were all on there. The LA Times tweeted that the airport had completely shut down, and dozens of people in my feed were retweeting them. I jumped into the conversation wherever it appeared to point out that "No, you're wrong. I'm watching planes take off."

"My dad leaves town in the morning," I told David. "I hope this doesn't affect his flight." Dad was going back east, for the tenth anniversary of 9/11. "Says here they're not expecting power to come back on until tomorrow... schools will be closed."

David lit candles and placed them on surfaces. He opened another bottle of wine. We watched candles flicker in our neighbors' windows. "It's interesting to have something like this affect an entire region, something that diverts everyone from their well-worn paths," David mused. "And it really makes you aware of your routine."

"Someone just tweeted that the outage is forcing families to communicate," I said.

"Right. And Brittany suggested we have a big party in the parking lot here."

"Being derailed from our hundreds of thousands of individual ruts has thrown us all together," I said. I took a moment to ponder my little epiphany. I looked at David over the candlelight and lifted my glass. "I like different."

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Our candles
Our candles

What were you doing when life as we knew it shut down and the universe was nudged off-kilter for an entire eight hours throughout the county? Around 300 people were stuck in elevators. Some were trapped on rides at Legoland. Too many were colliding with other cars at one of the hundreds of intersections with no working traffic lights. Me? I was standing at my desk, editing video footage when everything went black. Not outside, of course, the sun was still strong, and oppressive once the air conditioning cut out. I thought it was a fuse, or some electrical problem.

The first thing I did was call my property manager. She texted me back: Power's out in all San Diego. All? Couldn't be. So I went to Twitter on my recently charged iPhone. And, while David listened on, I recited the surprising reports that kept popping up in my feed. "Chula Vista... Orange County... Holy shit, El Centro! It's everywhere, it's from up north of Camp Pendleton all the way down to Ensenada. This is insane."

It was exciting. Here we were, going about our usual day, working, hanging, surfing headlines on our favorite news sites, and then -- something different. People began filing outside. Neighbors sharing stories, updates they'd gleaned from the radio or their own handheld devices, unplugged but still jacked in, all of us. I was delighted. "Surely they'll understand why I can't make the deadline now," I said. "I can't work. It's not that I don't want to. I can't." After three months of working nonstop, seven days a week, with only the odd respite for food and drink, I was forced to take a break. To do nothing. Suddenly, I was as terrified as I was excited.

I'd been meaning to take a shower all day, but had been steadfast at my computer. David found our box of candles and prepped the windowless bathroom for me. In the dim light, with the scented candles, and the warm water, I took a deep breath and let it out with a long, pleasant sigh that vibrated in my chest.

Once I was dressed, I looked around for something to do besides check my Twitter feed. "Don't we have rose chilling in the fridge?" David nodded. "Let's get it, and the cheese. We wouldn't want it all to go bad," I said. We set up a picnic. It was only 5:30, and the windows let in plenty of daylight for our table. Guilt and habit drove me to Twitter, to check in, report to David, and type my own updates. A few hours later, I watched the sunset in the northwest, while downtown, southeast of me, all those familiar lights failed to sparkle. It was surreal.

"We'll be able to see the stars," David said.

"Not as well as we would if we lived farther from the airport." The lights were all on there. The LA Times tweeted that the airport had completely shut down, and dozens of people in my feed were retweeting them. I jumped into the conversation wherever it appeared to point out that "No, you're wrong. I'm watching planes take off."

"My dad leaves town in the morning," I told David. "I hope this doesn't affect his flight." Dad was going back east, for the tenth anniversary of 9/11. "Says here they're not expecting power to come back on until tomorrow... schools will be closed."

David lit candles and placed them on surfaces. He opened another bottle of wine. We watched candles flicker in our neighbors' windows. "It's interesting to have something like this affect an entire region, something that diverts everyone from their well-worn paths," David mused. "And it really makes you aware of your routine."

"Someone just tweeted that the outage is forcing families to communicate," I said.

"Right. And Brittany suggested we have a big party in the parking lot here."

"Being derailed from our hundreds of thousands of individual ruts has thrown us all together," I said. I took a moment to ponder my little epiphany. I looked at David over the candlelight and lifted my glass. "I like different."

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Comments
4

I like it! The Husband and I played cards outside which led to most of our complex eventually joining us in our courtyard. We all drank lots, walked to the beach around midnight, played on the swings at the playground and The Leucadian was bumping. I was sad to wake up this morning and have the power on. Another normal day at work.

Sept. 9, 2011

We had a wine and acoustic instruments roof party in Encanto, then listened to some Conflict and Sisters Of Mercy...the whole neighborhood cheered as the lights came back on around 10 pm but some of us booed, specially the ones that scrambled to bed heavy hearted with the fact that work and routine were back on for the next day...

Sept. 9, 2011

Being sad the power came back on should tell us something -- we need to slow down and unplug more often, maybe even take time off from our jobs when we can. Because as you guys point out, and as I saw and experienced yesterday, a disruption of routine can be magical and invigorating.

Sept. 9, 2011

I never met so many new people in my building and the one next door. In spite of the emergency lights failing in the hallways, and the garage door not opening (until we figured how to jimmy it), we had a really nice time. Someone said the white wine should be drunk while it is still chilled. Agreed. Lovely ladies needing candles and/or flashlights. I was never so glad to be the one who camped a lot and had plenty of both to share around.

The atmosphere was festive and lots of strangely lit people roamed the streets (how did someone manage to create a suit out of those green sticks?)

I say, "Somebody pull that switch one more time, so we can pick up where we left off!" The sense of community was truly stunning. For a bad, bad mishap, it sure felt like a really good time!

Sept. 9, 2011

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