Whew, Hipsters! It's been a crazy few months and they have sure flown by. So much has been going on, both good and bad. I've been super busy with work (currently working two jobs at three different bars for a total of 70+ hours a week) and life stuff. Made lots of new great friends and lost a dear family friend. Got to attend my first conference as a blogger and made some great new contacts. Eaten lots of late night meals and gotten very little sleep. But these are the everyday ups and downs of life. The day in, day out of living. They are all important to the grand scheme of our lives. But last night, something happened that was so insane, so unbelievable, as to stop time for a few hours.
It started out as an ordinary Monday night. I had gotten out of work at the bar that I work at down the street from my cottage. Had a few cocktails, then had dinner with my parents at the local Mexican restaurant. (Carnitas were delicious.) Headed home and decided to get to bed early. I had just laid down and was obsessively checking my Twitter feed (I now have almost 100 followers!) when the pup and I heard what I thought was thunder. But something in the sound made my stomach flip flop a little. Then I heard it again. And again. And again. It started to become a constant booming noise, louder than the fourth of July fireworks that were shot off just down the street from my house.
I immediately called my mom, since she lives 1 1/2 miles down the road, to find out if she was hearing the same booming. She answered the phone with a question. "What is that? Can you hear it too?" I could hear her yelling to my dad to run outside. "The sky is all lit up! What's going on?" I jumped out of bed and threw on the first clothes that I could find (which happened to be the shortest shorts I own and a jet ski tshirt) and ran outside, barefoot and headed towards the lake. As soon as I got to the edge of my driveway, I could see where all the explosions were coming from.
Across the lake from me, only about 2 miles as the crow flies, was a giant fire blazing, at least a hundred feet in the air. I think I had some panic in my voice and it had risen up a few octaves as I was describing the scene to my mom. I was trying to figure out exactly where it was, when my phone beeped with another call. My dear friend, and former roommate was calling because he could hear the booming and thought it was right at my house. Then the craziness began. We all started calling everyone we could, pushing our phones to their limit. And people started showing up in their cars, following the sounds towards the lake. Lots of people. Car after car driving down Main Street, trying to discover the source of the disturbing booms and the orange sky. Then I called my grandmother.
I don't think I will ever forget the panic in her voice. She told me that the propane plant a half mile from her house had exploded. She was desperately trying to catch her cats, who of course were hiding because of the ruckus. I told her to just get in her car and head towards my house, when, with great relief I heard my aunt's voice in the background. Good, she was not alone. But I could tell when she put the phone down in her rush to escape, so I hung up the phone and called my mother. She relayed the info to my dad, who immediately jumped into his truck and took off to try to help his mother. What followed was a nerve-racking hour of phone calls, rumors passed from one spectator to another, and pure, unadulterated terror.
It took my grandmother and aunt nearly an hour to get the 3 miles around the lake to safety at my aunt's house. Then the rumors of toxic fumes and possible evacuation, and the possibility of the three 70,000 lb propane tanks blowing led me back into the house, with a very nervous dog and two twitchy cats. So I got ready, in case I needed to head to mom's or even farther. Dressed, shoes on, cat carrier and leash ready, and bag and keys by the door. Watching the propane tanks explode into the air from the tv chopper, then hearing the explosion rattle my windows. The booms seemed to get louder, and lasted for two more hours. By 2 am, it seemed that the fire had settled down, and we could all finally get some sleep.
After an unsettled night of tossing and turning, it was time to get a new day started. Tired, but hopeful, I took care of all of my errands, and headed to work. Thinking I had my day planned out for me, I was returned to that moment of terror from the night before, when my mom called me as I was finishing my drive to work. News of a leak in one of the aforementioned giant storage tanks had led to talk of more evacuations on a wider scale. Trying to keep it together, when all I could worry about was my family, friends, and animals. I'm so thankful for understanding supervisors and teammates that got me out of work quickly.
So now I'm home, and the danger seems to be minimized, thanks to the great efforts of the local emergency personnel. Now I'm trying to decompress from one of the scariest evenings of my life. I've been through hurricanes, tornados and other disasters, but this one has affected more than any of those. And I think the biggest reason was because I was alone. My family was close, but they weren't close enough. There was that fear that I wouldn't be able to get to them, or them to me. Being alone, that was terrifying. And I could understand the panic that overcomes people in times of great upheaval. It took everything I had to keep myself together.
I'm writing this because I want everyone to know what happened without me having to tell the story over and over. But I'm also writing this as catharsis. An act of emotional purging, if you will. I was scared, and alone, and I didn't like it. I think maybe we all have these moments in our lives, but we all have the choice as to how we will react.
To the eight workers who were injured, I wish quick healing and positive vibes to you and your families. To all my local peeps, I wish peaceful thoughts and deep sleep. And to everyone, I wish for a life filled with great, fantastic moments with no moments of heartbreak and loneliness.
Next time, back to the fun stuff. Stay hip, kids.
