Last night I was driving home from my parents’ house, and, just a few feet in front of my car, three enormous explosions erupted, one after the other, with loud BOOMs and electric sparks spraying all over the street like fire. I slammed on my brakes and sat there for nearly a whole minute to catch my breath and figure out what was going on.
Everything behind me was completely dark. It was as if I were sitting at the end of some abyss or ominous cave, the trunk of my car about to teeter backward into the nothingness…
After a few seconds I realized that a transformer must have blown, and I called my parents, who confirmed that their power was out. Luckily, it was back on within a few hours.
Most of my experiences with the power going out are spent indoors, and the electricity just stops, leaving behind a strange calmness in the house that we rarely know – we’re so accustomed to the white noise and the humming of appliances turned on.
This was a totally different experience. I got to see the power fly across the road, away from the lines. It was frightening and thrilling at once. As I heard my parents’ voices over the phone, clearly bored and annoyed at the inconvenience of being without lights, I found that I felt a little excited at my good fortune.
Not that I was simply happy to be going home to air conditioning; I was glad that I’d seen it happen. Had I stayed another ten minutes at my parents, or left ten minutes earlier, I would not have seen the random explosion in the dark night, spitting bright yellow streamers over the street. I was the only one on the road at that moment. It was like a show for me.
Sure, that’s an odd way of looking at it, but hey. I like a good adventure, even if it’s only in my mind.