Earthquakes and Hurricanes

I don’t know if you have heard, but the end of the world is on its way. No, I am not talking about the rapture that was supposed to happen last May, I am talking about the other definitive signs. First off, there is a freakin’ hurricane heading to New York City. That shit never happens and I just canceled my Cape Cod vacation thanks to Hurricane Irene. The only other Irene I ever knew was a friend of my Grandma’s about a hundred years ago. I guess anything and everything named Irene is a fucking bitch on wheels, is that it? My apologies if your name is Irene and you are a nice lady, but I doubt it.

The second sure sign that the end is near was that we had an earthquake in New York City on Tuesday. I did not feel it. Friends of mine did, but not me. When it happened, I was sitting in a park reading the newspaper. No, I was not too drunk to feel the earth move under my feet, it was just so minor here that is was pretty much a non-event. This was my first earthquake and I expected more from it. After all, I saw the movie Earthquake in 1974 so I know all about seismic tremors. My mom took me to see it with her friend Doris when I was seven years old. I have since asked her why she took her child to see such a scary movie. Her reply? “Did I take you to see that? Hmm, I don’t remember that all, I guess I couldn’t find a babysitter.” Well, I remember because it gave me nightmares. How can any seven year old child forget that scene where all those people plummet to their death in an elevator? It was so realistic to me as a child; even that corny animated blood splatter that filled the screen. When I got to work after the earthquake, I expected to see bottles of liquor oozing life onto the floor and parts of the ceiling dangling above overturned tables and chairs. Instead, I saw that we were out of regular coffee so it was going to be all decaf all the time that night. My experience with the earthquake is pretty much summed up in this video:

But now we have Hurricane Irene to deal with. Not only will it wreak havoc with our lives, for those of us in the restaurant world, it’s going to hurt us in our pocketbook too. I mean, how many people are going to want to go out to eat this weekend during a hurricane?

“Honey, I don’t feel like cooking tonight. What do you say we get the canoe and paddle over to the restaurant for dinner? Doesn’t that sound like fun?”

“Well, dear, I dunno. The wind is really strong out there, maybe we should take the sailboat.”

“Oh sweetheart, you think of everything.”

Yeah, not gonna happen. My suggestion to restaurant owners up and down the east coast is to have a Hurricane Special. You turn the televisions to the Weather Channel, make the cocktail of the day a $5 hurricane., take 10% all checks and see what happens. Or just accept that no one is going to come in and close up for the day. That way we can all have our own hurricane party. You fill your house with junk food, liquor, batteries and candles and get drunk off your ass. Turn on the TV and make a drinking game out of it; every time Sam Champion says “wind gusts” you take a shot.

I am off to the grocery store to stock up on food. You know that the the bread aisle is already empty and there is no milk anywhere. In the event of a natural disaster, people always buy up every loaf of bread they can get their hands on. As long as there is still vodka and tequila at the liquor store, I think I can make it through the storm. I just won’t be in Provincetown and that pisses me off. I hate you, Irene. You suck.

Next stop on the End of the World Express: locusts.


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