Natural Disasters

Typhoon Fanapi twirled its way across Taiwan today. In past lives, I lived close enough to the Atlantic coast to catch some of the fierce hurricanes that hurled themselves off the ocean, but this was my first experience with their Western Pacific brothers. I must say I was sorely disappointed. The rest of this blog will show just how justified this disappointment is.

A friend informed me early last week that a typhoon might soon hit the island. I stated that in light of such an imminent occurrence, it would be wise to hustle down to the hospital to be vaccinated against so formidable a foe. My friend quickly checked my march to the doctor by giving me to understand that a typhoon was not a disease but a storm. This brightened my countenance considerably, and I began to make all the necessary preparations for the onslaught. These preparations mainly consisted of loudly and regularly proclaiming that I would not be evacuating inland. It was here that my disappointments began, for no one seem to pay my proclamations any attention whatsoever. As a matter of fact, they laughed and mentioned the fact that Taiwan was a small island that would be hit in its entirety by the typhoon, making the move inland futile. It became obvious that further preparations were necessary, so I went out and bought a life preserver and an inflatable raft. Thus armed, I anxiously cast my eye out over the vast expanse of the ocean that cradles this little island, looking for the first signs of Poseidon's fury.

Upon learning that the typhoon would arrive over the weekend, I was thrilled at the opportunity to go to church in the midst of the raging storm. One is exposed to a completely different demographic at church during blizzards, tornadoes, and hurricanes. We can probably throw volcanoes into that mix as well. The natural disaster crowd is similar to the holiday crowd, only a good bit more obnoxious. The holiday crowd meekly slide in and out of their pews, hoping that the regular attendees won't notice their presence any more than they have noticed their past absences. The natural disaster crowd, on the other hand, loudly proclaim their presence. They seem to think that going to church under stressful weather conditions makes up for any amount of Sundays missed under normal conditions. It really works out perfect for them. On these Sundays they can't be out on the lake anyway, so they might as well go to church and get credit for all the Sundays that they do spend on the lake. It also seems to give them a level of spirituality and commitment far beyond those who regularly attend but are reluctant to venture out when the chances of serious injury or death are significantly higher. Thus, the foul weather Christians enter the edifice and commence immediately and gleefully to objurgate roundly their fair weather brethren. It really is a sight to behold. Yet even this pleasure was denied me, as church was cancelled due to the oncoming storm.

Nothing, however, could cancel the storm itself, and that is all I really needed. The typhoon struck around 3:00 Sunday morning, but I decided it more advantageous to wait until daylight to venture out. I slept through the night, then, and when the sun finally rose, I got up with it and prepared myself. I first saw to the inflation of the raft and donned my life preserver. With a deep breath, I then dragged the raft out to the street. Here I must pause and say a word about my little apartment. It is on the first floor and is completely walled in, leaving no way to look out onto the street. Thus, I cannot truly gage the conditions outside from my apartment. However, there was a typhoon out there, and I knew exactly what I was going to do once I left my apartment, walked down the corridor to the front door of the apartment complex, and exited out on to Tai shun street. I would launch my raft out onto the free-flowing river that had once been the street and begin my search for that lone constant of any true storm; that staple of and enduring monument to all inclement weather; that beacon of hope and perseverance; that shining light in the darkest of moments--the Weather Channel reporter. There actually were no hurricanes, tornadoes, or blizzards before 1982, which was the year the Weather Channel was launched. There really wasn't any such thing as weather at all. Few people seem to be aware of this fact, but upon the slightest reflection it becomes obvious that this must be the case. Anyway, I planned to guide my raft up to the light pole to which the reporter was clinging and then offer myself to be interviewed. This interview, of course, would be replayed every 45 seconds, and I would gain enduring fame and glory. I even had my speech worked out.

Yeah, I'm just out here lookin' to be o' some help to some poor soul out here who is trapped and don't got nowhere to turn. I seen this thing commin'. Felt it in my bones. My liver always starts actin' up too just before one lands. I alway knows exactly when they're gonna hit. My friends always tell me to get the heck off the island, but in all my years I ain't never run from one of these dern things. I just always come out here tryin' to be a Good Samyrian to those in need. I figured the gangster probably didn't leave town, so somebody better hang around to try and head 'im off...

This was my moment.

You can imagine, then, the utter dismay and confusion when I opened the door and launched my raft out onto a little child. I shouted at her to climb into the raft and out of the river, only to notice that she was standing on firm, though damp pavement. No free-flowing river. What was worse, there was very little rain. I panicked and dashed up and down the street looking for the reporter. There was none. I only found people walking in and out of beauty salons, convenience stores, and vegetable markets. There I stood, my moment of glory cruelly snatched from my hands. I gave the raft to the little child and slunk back inside.

I seems that the storm had hit hardest during the night, but even then it wasn't all that bad. The mountains that surround Taipei protected the city from much of the typhoon's fury. It's just not fair.

This came on the heels of my experience with an earthquake at school not long ago. I knew that earthquakes were common here, so I had been waiting with great anticipation for my first good one. In the middle of class the building began to sway, and I sprang into action. I hustled the kids out into the hall, verbally fighting back the craven instincts I knew to be engulfing these little children's hearts. I screamed of courage, heroism, and clearheaded action, only to notice that in the other classrooms teachers calmly spoke of the past perfect tense. It seems that earthquakes only merit a passing remark here.

I'm moving.