Well! Everyone seemed jittery today. Even after it became widely known that the ballistic missile alert was a false alarm it was kind of hard to focus. It’s not every day I think, “A missile. Not a drill. How long, seven minutes? Ten? OK. Protected from nuclear blast from mountains. Tsunami if it lands in ocean? Then we’ll die. Here we are, God; keep my kids. Isaac and Eloise. Fallout radiation poisoning? Slow agonizing death? Upwind from Honolulu. Most likely it won’t hit. I am sweating. Go tell Chris. Get kids in center of house. I wish I had more water stockpiled. Fill water bottles? Bathtub?” And all before breakfast at that. Chris and I ran around closing windows, pulling down shades, texting our families: “Not sure what’s going on. Pray for us.”
I texted a friend whose husband is out of town to check in. “Hopefully we’ll be laughing about this in a couple hours,” I said. It’s weird to think two hours ahead when you’re wondering if you should pull a mattress over the kids or whether it would be better to go outside and listen for air raid sirens first. Local TV was all college sports and crap. Local news had no news. No news is NOT good news when you’re looking for info on an incoming missile threat. How long do we have between they spot a missile and impact, 10-15 minutes? Maybe less?
Anyway, it’s interesting to hear what everyone did in the time between the alert and the un-alert. Lots of praying, crying, family hugging in closets.
Tonight, the islands celebrate. I made a Ballistic Missile Mai Tai with zingy Tahitian lime and dark Hawaiian rum. Sweet and sour and perfect. With the Mai Tai in hand and a slew of memes, this day ended much better than it began!