The Day Louisville Broke
I get woken up by Mara when she comes into my room and tells me that a tree fell down and knocked down a power line. Except those weren't the details she gave me. Mostly she told me how the tree fell on my car.
The noise I apparently made was something like a defeated sigh. Mara said it was the MOST defeated sigh she's ever heard. I'm in my underwear just looking through the blinds and all I see is where this tree snapped in half and hit the top, the back window exploded.
I bother to put on pants and go outside where I find a power line keeping me from walking up to the thing, and all that's going through my head is the Big Lebowski line of, "They did it Walter. They finally killed my fucking car."
The windy aftermath of Ivan hit Louisville yesterday and basically broke it. No rain, no lightning, just this aftermath of devastation caused by 70+mph winds knocking down every tree. Like ALL of them. To top it off, Steve Johnson, who was minutes away from giving a presentation to the board of executives to his own company which would have secured him a big time management position with stock options, he lost his entire report when the wind blew it off the table at the Heine Bros. coffee shop he was lounging at just before work. Poor guy.
When we're looking at the damage to my car, the wind is blowing so hard that the dusty, tree filled back alley of our apartment becomes a sand storm with various debris of twigs and leaves that smack you in your face and get dirt in your eye. I walk back inside feeling as grainy and dirty as any day at the beach, minus the fun of beach blanket bingo and hot dogs.
I come to find out that most of Louisville is in worse shape than Mara and I. At least we have power. But no internet or TV so we can't find out how bad anything is. And I can't check myspace. I CAN'T FUCKING CHECK MYSPACE! GAH!
Something like 23,000 people are without power and most of Bardstown road is devoid of it as well. But this doesn't stop Mara and I and a million other people from wandering the highlands to look at the damage.
Everywhere we go is gridlock traffic separating only to let an emergency vehicle through every five minutes. Trees are down EVERYWHERE. Power lines down EVERYWHERE.
We try and call LG&E to get rid of the power line by our house but the line is so busy that we can't get through. Later they tell us, sorry, everyone has a down power line. We'll take care of everyone else's first.
The true end of that story is that our local power company sent all it's trucks to Texas to take care of the ACTUAL damage from Ivan and after getting half way there, they all got called back.
The farther we go down Bardstown the less power anything has until we get near Grinstead Ln. and nothing has power at all. The streets are lined with leaves and police tape and the wind gusts keep sending both into your face as you try and walk.
What surprised me was the sheer number of people out and about. There was this massive surge of energy where nothing happened to anyone that was downright TRAGIC. Roofs are mostly uncollapsed and dead bodies aren't washing up on shore. So those completely unharmed except maybe by a power outage and melting ice cream wander around goofily marveling at the damage.
I was goofily marveling at the damage.
Bardstown pretty officially closed down at five. Everything closed down. And I call Mark to see if my scheduled evening of work was going to occur.
Turns out, it's not.
He asked if I had any ideas what to do with my night off and I said, "A scooter, tow rope, and rollerskates."
Instead of that, Carrie calls and brings with her a giant jug of Kentucky Tavern bourbon. Eventually Allison and Patrick are there and we get ridiculously drunk before passing out at seven in the morning, a now empty jug of bourbon in our bellies and The Warriors being joked at before we were done.
When I wake up at five pm. the next night, I have to drag myself out of bed because I'm hung over. Like REALLY hung over. How hung over? (Holds arms out wide) This many.
The noise I apparently made was something like a defeated sigh. Mara said it was the MOST defeated sigh she's ever heard. I'm in my underwear just looking through the blinds and all I see is where this tree snapped in half and hit the top, the back window exploded.
I bother to put on pants and go outside where I find a power line keeping me from walking up to the thing, and all that's going through my head is the Big Lebowski line of, "They did it Walter. They finally killed my fucking car."
The windy aftermath of Ivan hit Louisville yesterday and basically broke it. No rain, no lightning, just this aftermath of devastation caused by 70+mph winds knocking down every tree. Like ALL of them. To top it off, Steve Johnson, who was minutes away from giving a presentation to the board of executives to his own company which would have secured him a big time management position with stock options, he lost his entire report when the wind blew it off the table at the Heine Bros. coffee shop he was lounging at just before work. Poor guy.
When we're looking at the damage to my car, the wind is blowing so hard that the dusty, tree filled back alley of our apartment becomes a sand storm with various debris of twigs and leaves that smack you in your face and get dirt in your eye. I walk back inside feeling as grainy and dirty as any day at the beach, minus the fun of beach blanket bingo and hot dogs.
I come to find out that most of Louisville is in worse shape than Mara and I. At least we have power. But no internet or TV so we can't find out how bad anything is. And I can't check myspace. I CAN'T FUCKING CHECK MYSPACE! GAH!
Something like 23,000 people are without power and most of Bardstown road is devoid of it as well. But this doesn't stop Mara and I and a million other people from wandering the highlands to look at the damage.
Everywhere we go is gridlock traffic separating only to let an emergency vehicle through every five minutes. Trees are down EVERYWHERE. Power lines down EVERYWHERE.
We try and call LG&E to get rid of the power line by our house but the line is so busy that we can't get through. Later they tell us, sorry, everyone has a down power line. We'll take care of everyone else's first.
The true end of that story is that our local power company sent all it's trucks to Texas to take care of the ACTUAL damage from Ivan and after getting half way there, they all got called back.
The farther we go down Bardstown the less power anything has until we get near Grinstead Ln. and nothing has power at all. The streets are lined with leaves and police tape and the wind gusts keep sending both into your face as you try and walk.
What surprised me was the sheer number of people out and about. There was this massive surge of energy where nothing happened to anyone that was downright TRAGIC. Roofs are mostly uncollapsed and dead bodies aren't washing up on shore. So those completely unharmed except maybe by a power outage and melting ice cream wander around goofily marveling at the damage.
I was goofily marveling at the damage.
Bardstown pretty officially closed down at five. Everything closed down. And I call Mark to see if my scheduled evening of work was going to occur.
Turns out, it's not.
He asked if I had any ideas what to do with my night off and I said, "A scooter, tow rope, and rollerskates."
Instead of that, Carrie calls and brings with her a giant jug of Kentucky Tavern bourbon. Eventually Allison and Patrick are there and we get ridiculously drunk before passing out at seven in the morning, a now empty jug of bourbon in our bellies and The Warriors being joked at before we were done.
When I wake up at five pm. the next night, I have to drag myself out of bed because I'm hung over. Like REALLY hung over. How hung over? (Holds arms out wide) This many.