I’ve been hunkered down under my desk, fingers laced over my head, for about a week now. I have no way of knowing what’s going on with the National Emergency, no radio, no phone. I’m scratching this out on a scrap of paper using my fingernail and the accumulated schmutz on the floor. With any luck, the all-clear siren, (is that still a thing?), will sound soon and I can get something to eat and drink and stop peeing my pants. I have trained for this moment, albeit more than sixty years ago during a Noble Elementary School air raid drill…some things stick with you. The window is open and I’ve been listening intently for the voices of marauding invaders. I haven’t decided if I will surrender or try to fight them off. I have a Bosch stapler and an Eiffel Tower snow globe, both of which have been used as lethal weapons in separate Jack Reacher novels. I’m guessing that the President has been moved to a secret, secure bunker and that most things have ground to a halt. I haven’t heard any planes overhead and I’m in the direct path of most Southwest routes into Albany…they must have suspended all flights until the crisis is over. Crazy the things you start to worry about during such stressful times: Will Terence Blanchard still get his Academy Award? Will shutting everything down help global warming? Are the Jeopardy contestants safe? Is Robert Kraft getting laid? Will Jamal ever find inner peace on Empire?
I’m going to make a paper airplane out of this now and try to sail it out the window in the hope that someone finds it, posts it and you are all safe and I see you soon.