The Weather Radio
I haven’t posted anything new for awhile—a bad habit in my case, which normally means that I’m finding some other psychological outlet for my inane thoughts, some method that may or may not include talking to gummi bears. Anyway, I’ve decided that instead of waiting until something really gets at me, causing me to pour out some isolated essay on a given topic, I’ll try to begin posting some shorter amusing observations…the sort of thing that really keeps me going day after day. So, here we go.

My roommate, Ben, has a weather radio. Before living with Ben, I had never actually seen a weather radio, and I’m still a little confused over how it works and how its listeners are supposed to respond to it. Previously, when I had a third roommate, the two of us would take turns unplugging the thing whenever it went off because it disturbed our studying, working, television watching, and video game playing…or because it simply annoyed us. When Ben would return to the house, he would have to plug it back in if he wanted to hear the latest report.

Probably most annoying about this device is that it doesn’t just alert us to local area severe weather; no, it may interrupt us on some days just to let us know that it’s drizzling in Oklahoma. “Thanks Mr. Robot Voice. Do you think you could wake us up again to advise us of the current humidity reading in Taiwan as well?”

Last night, however, we were experiencing severe weather all across the state. The Weather Channel reported that heavy thunderstorms would be moving across the Louisiana border in the early afternoon and that the rain would most likely last, with varying degrees of severity, until 2-4 a.m. The typical flash flood advisories and tornado watches were in effect. Of course, these conditions are nothing out of the ordinary. We’ve seen storms that are far worse, and I certainly wasn’t going to worry about going about my normal business. So, I met some friends for dinner in Clinton and went bowling afterwards.

When I arrived home around 11 p.m. the weather was still somewhat inclement and the weather radio was in full operation. Mr. Robot Voice was giving all the Doppler radar details that anyone could notice for himself by just looking out the window: “Severe weather advisory for areas of central Mississippi with [beep] periods of heavy rain [pause] and possible tornadic conditions [static] are expected until 2-4 a.m.” Sometimes the voice stops talking, and a nerve-shattering squeal comes out of the speaker, apparently to make everyone within hearing range pee their pants.

After several intermittent slices of non-information from this thing, its alarm sounded again and I heard Ben mutter something and promptly turn it off. Chuckling to myself at this prospect—an alarm device that we consistently turn off instead of taking to heart—I asked Ben explicitly, “So, what’s the point of this weather radio anyway?” He said, “To wake you up.” I laughed. He must have taken issue. “I’m serious. It’s to wake you up in case there’s a tornado.” Although I didn’t laugh anymore, I thought this prospect was even more humorous than the first one. Do we sleep so heavily that a tornado, which is often described as sounding like “a freight train,” cannot stir us? If so, I guess it’s a good thing that we have Mr. Robot Voice to sound his alarm when the tornado comes so we can pee our pants in bed right before we are killed tragically by the freight train tornado that we somehow failed to hear amidst all of the flash flood advisories and tornado watches. I think I’d rather chunk the radio and die in my sleep.