Friday, December 14, 2012

Watch A Meteor Shower Alone? Never Again.

And now, boys and girls, I shall regale you with the story of how I have vowed to never, ever, ever watch a meteor show by myself ever again. It should be noted that I've never seen a shooting star in my life, and since it was the Geminid Meteor Shower and I was guaranteed to see hundreds, I figured I'd check that item off my bucket list at the ripe old age of 31.

This fine, semi-thrilling story starts with me digging around in my closet for my squirrel suit. You see, if I was going to stay outside for a length of time to catch the meteor shower, I needed the warmest thing I could find.


I'm a thing of beauty, aren't I? This picture is from a few years ago, but not much has changed. Except my face isn't that fat anymore. That's what losing 45lbs will do for you. I just felt like I needed to point that out.

So first I put on a pair of fleece pants, then a long johns top, encapsulated myself in the squirrel suit, topped off with a winter coat, gloves, scarf, and tennis shoes. I was ready to rock this meteor shower. Side note: next time I'll wear boots. The breathable fabric tennis shoes meant my feet were FROZEN.

I grabbed my "spending the night at the station during inclement weather" cot, waddled my way outside like an overdressed penguin, plopped down on said cot, and stared at the sky.

Nothing.

Blink, blink.

"I SEE ONE!!"

Nope. That was a plane.

Blink, blink.

Yawn.

Brrrr.

Blink, blink.

Forget this. Maybe it's too early at 10:30PM. All these people on Facebook said they were seeing them. They were lying. They saw planes; that's what they saw. Liar, liar, pants on fire.

I waddled my way back inside and plopped in the easy chair, determined to wait a smidge longer where it was comfortable.

Apparently, I got too comfortable, or the Bengals/Eagles game was boring, because an hour later I woke myself up by the sound of my own self lightly snoring. Or maybe not so lightly. If you can wake your own self up out of a dead sleep with the sound of snoring, it can't be that light.

Anywho, I put my gloves back on, fixed my scarf, and waddled my way back outside to give it another go.

No sooner had I fully reclined on the cot when SHINY! a bright light flashed to my right!

Scared me to death. It was like someone popped a flash on a camera in the sky. That can't be what a shooting star is like, right?

SHINY! Another one flashed, this time to my left!

It really is a shooting star! My gosh, these things are terrifying! Horrifying. Scary. Frightening. I was expecting something a little more... shooting star-ish. Like Disney. Happy. Fairy tale. When you wish upon a star. This was not it.

Then I got a genius idea: the shooting stars needed a soundtrack. I cued up a little John Williams from my iTunes. The theme song to Jurassic Park was perfect. As the music played, the outside seemed far less scary. Even though that particular song is the precursor to a bunch of people being chased in the dark by people-eating-dinosaurs, but whatever, it made me feel better. And then, as the music swelled, a perfect shooting star cut through the night sky. If this was a movie, I couldn't have scripted it any better.

I saw another two or three and that was good enough for me. I was cold. I was sleepy. It was time for beauty rest. I sat up, swung my legs over the side of the cot, but I couldn't get up. This thing was so low to the ground, and I had the mobility of a beached whale in my squirrel suit, winter coat, gloves, etc., that I literally had to roll on to the ground and get myself up from there. I picked up the cot and started folding it together when the bush next to me started rustling.

Like, legitimately rustling, like something was about to emerge.

Oh shoot, oh shoot, oh shoot, oh shoot.

The panic button went off in my brain.

It was something big. Something massive. It was going to get me. Eat me. I was going to die.

I heaved the cot back, ready to clobber whatever was about to emerge.

The bush stopped shaking.

I waited, poised.

And that's when I realized... as I was trying to fold the cot up, I was hitting the bush with the edge of the cot. I was shaking the bush. Nothing was there... but me.

I laughed out loud.

And then I ran inside where it was safe and warm, and I vowed to never, ever, ever watch another meteor shower by myself again.

For reals, y'all.

The End.

4 comments:

  1. My pants were not on fire! We saw them. Really and truly! Matt man and I saw them!

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  2. Haha love your recount Erin! I wanted to see it but fell asleep with the kids early (as I do every night!)... wish I could have been there with you! - Kristen (stalkerish girl that you met at the Home and Garden show over a year ago with 3 kids and a husband that is stuck oversees because of immigration! - haha, gotta love the weird descriptions, you must have a gazillion people you meet so a weird description might be the only way for you to remember faces!)

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    Replies
    1. I had to fight my inner 97 year old! I'm usually in bed by 10PM at the very latest. I don't know how I did it!

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