Rory's Rumblings: "Is this it?"
We called a friend whose father works at Pearl Harbor. They weren't on lock down, a good sign. "This is probably a false alarm then?" said my wife. "Yeah," I said. "But if it isn't, you know, I love you."
It's a cool morning in the hills of Kauai. Scattered clouds, blue skies peeking through. I was snuggled into a warm cocoon next to my wife, dozing a bit longer while I waited for coffee to finish brewing.
Civil alert messages are fairly common in Hawaii. Flash flood warnings, mainly. So when the wife's cell went, "ERRR ERRR ERRR," we weren't expecting much.
BALLISTIC MISSILE THREAT INBOUND TO HAWAII. SEEK IMMEDIATE SHELTER. THIS IS NOT A DRILL.
Whatever thoughts I'd been harboring about coaxing my way into an early morning romp fled in the face of approaching oblivion.
Is this it? Is this how I end?
Our siren systems were silent, social media statewide immediately flooded with concerned posts. The DoD had posted the same on their website. It was on the radio and television. People were scared. I was scared.
We called a friend whose father works at Pearl Harbor. They weren't on lockdown, a good sign.
"This is probably a false alarm then?" said my wife.
"Yeah. But if it isn't, you know, I love you."
Panic spread through the state. Can you blame us? No other news was incoming, no one knew what to do. How do you shelter from a ballistic fucking missile? I don't think you do. I think that's the point. I think you just accept your imminent demise.
Forty minutes later we got the update. Forty minutes waiting to die.
False alarm. They're looking into it.
This is not how I wanted to begin my day.