Typhoon: Noun, for treacherous storm that rips you to shreds, and tears cities to pieces with astronomical winds and torrential downpours.
Well, that was my definition of what I thought a typhoon consisted of.
Typhoon Vongfong was headed right at me all week long. The sirens blared, the texts flowed, and the creative escape plans flooded my brain. Monday was the new doomsday.
My fridge was stocked. My electronics charged. And my flashlight strapped to my head, waiting for the fate of VONGFONG.
To say I was prepared was an understatement. Even my goPro was strapped to my balcony wall in order to capture footage of this wild beast approaching. There were reports flowing that this was the biggest typhoon on earth since 2013 –and I was going to capture every second of it for each one of you.
I was instructed (or commanded) to not leave the house this day or step foot outside. The stores were closed, trains and busses shut down, and the city slept. Which in my mind, meant something serious was about to go down! I was dreaming of semi-trucks being blown down the streets, cars living in trees, and total chaos surrounding me.
Suddenly, today was the day. As I sat on the floor waiting for the monster to show himself, I began to get restless and impatient. I was tired of waiting and ready to get this dreaded monster slain. I pictured myself as a modern day Avatar, sliding through the Japanese forests, dodging and outsmarting the typhoon at every turn. Maybe this was not a good plan, but I needed something to keep me occupied and give me hope in a time of crisis.
I waited… and waited… and waited. I just knew my window was about to shatter as the wind howled through the narrow streets and the rain began the fall.
Yet, nothing happened. The sky remained eerie and the air felt thick and suffocating, but no monster showed himself this day. Nothing at all. No flying cows or airborne shopping carts that I lived through to tell about.
In the end, I was thankful. Survived to see another day.
Yet, the day was long and boring. Imagine sitting in a room all day, no one to talk to, no one to crack jokes at, and no one to get swept away by the typhoon together.
The hours crept by at snail speed, and the day dragged like an old lady trying to mow her yard. All the while, my mind was driving in the Daytona 500 speeding around the track racing ideas, thoughts, and dreams all the way to the finish line.
I, Drew, survived one of the weakest typhoons in history and lived to tell you about it.
I sat here perplexed on how I was going to relate this bland, non-exciting, lifeless news to each one of you. Laid out flat on the wood floor –lifeless with no power on –the idea of the year overpowered me.
I decided to use my horrible, atrocious, ear-hindering, non-rhythmic, musical hidden (never to be found) talents to sing my “Typhoon Song” about conquering the unconquerable. What better way to use my time, than to sing the storm right out of town?
Boredom has struck – judgments are better left in a courtroom.
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