Tettsuo
April 18th, 2017, 11:36 PM
I woke up to the sound of water.
What the hell?
The sound reminded me a hard rain striking polished concrete. On a normal day I’d enjoy that natural music, but this time, it struck a cord of fear in me. The problem was, I was laying down in the bed of my shared apartment that was nestled in Jersey City. The brownstone was fairly new, nothing like the old building I abandoned up in the Bronx. That place was much further away from Manhattan, where I actually wanted to be, but steadfastly refused and/or was unable to pay to live there. Instead, I chose Jersey City. I thought at the time being fifteen minutes from the famous Madison Square Garden was worth the extra dollar on the extremely limited, and overly crowded, NJ subway system dubbed the PATH.
I still have no idea what that acronym stands for.
Reflexively, I grabbed my glasses always stationed within arm’s reach, and checked the time on my alarm clock. The green glowing numbers informed me that I still have another fifteen minutes before I must rise and get dressed for work.
Where the hell is that sound coming from?
Opening the door of my room, I craned my neck to see down the hallway and out of the window in the not-so-distance living room.
Oh, it’s still raining. Wow, it’s pouring out there.
I still remember thinking how loud the sound of the rain was as it struck the windows with intense fervor. But, even with my eyes locating the source of the sound, something still didn’t feel quite right. The sound… it didn’t feel right.
With a shrug, I turned back to my room, grabbed articles of clothing to wear for work, and headed to the bathroom. As I passed through the hallway and into the kitchen, I rubbed my hand across my cheek, knowing I’m going to have to shave today, but not looking forward to the experience. I still don’t enjoy shaving, but it’s a chore I know I must do if I want to look like I belong in a cubicle. Looking into the small vanity mirror, I debated whether or not to actually use the razor. I mean, the stumble wasn’t that noticeable I thought.
That’s when I saw it. Shower curtain drawn, I witnessed the most curious of things. The water in the bathtub was flowing in reverse. Thus far, the water gathered two inches inside of the tub. Even more curious, the water was rising, slowly, steadily, and showed no signs of ceasing.
Like during a dream, we ignore the most bizarre things, allowing the weird to pass without acting. So when I think about it, it was strange for me to begin brushing my teeth and act as if was rising in the tub was not of concern.
That’s really odd. The water’s still not going down the drain.
There’s something ominous about water backing up into your home. It only grows in danger as the moments continue to pass. Never stopping, never slowing down, it just continues to grow. For every inch the water rose I thought, it has to stop now, right? I turned to mirror, continuing my daily ritual of preparing myself to look presentable to the world, all the while a growing dread rose just inches from me in the tub as well as and my chest.
Wow, that’s a lot of water.
It wasn’t until I notice the water in the toilet begin to march up the white, shiny bowl that I stopped thinking it’s going to cease on its own.
Why I closed the toilet lid is a question I could never answer, at least not logically. The act was born out of pure desperation and confusion. Somewhere in my thoughts the idea of the toilet lid, plunging the fluid into darkness, would stop the water’s progress. Nonsense. Even after the blue plastic of the lid thudded against the cushioned seat, I knew shit… literally, was probably going to be hitting the fan.
Boxers on my ass and the day’s clothes in hand, I dashed back to my room and grabbed the essentially.
Wrist watch
Wallet
Keys
Ring (my dad’s blue sapphire pinkie ring, which I still own and love)
Socks
Shoes
Backpack
It’s funny how hope pops up when it shouldn’t. It does so knowing it’ll be dashed to pieces within the next few breaths, but there it was, telling me this water isn’t going to spill over and actually hit the floor. That’s crazy. This is Jersey City, it’s a major city in the state of New Jersey, there’s no way this should be happening in a place like this. Maybe it’ll all just sink down and disappear.
The sound of water slapping the checked tile on the bathroom floor announced to the world that hope is now dead.
Like the eternal, ever-present and completely unstoppable villain in a B-level slasher movie, the water appeared at the foot of the hallway, already engulfing the kitchen.
Suddenly driven by the fear that I’ll have to leave this apartment wearing nothing but my boxers, I turned back into the room and immediately begin lifting things off of the floor and donning my clothes for the day... minus pants.
A minute later, and just like any good slasher movie, the villain appears at the edge of my room, hiding just out of sight, ready to attack.
Goddamn it!
There is a feeling of utter powerlessness that overwhelms the mind during a flood. I suspect it’s very much the same feeling for anyone so unfortunate to be caught in any natural disaster. There’s nothing you can do. There’s no reasoning with the elements. There’s no plea that will cause the water to abate. It will strike if you are in its path and the loss it was create is inevitable and unavoidable. One can only pray that the damage remains minimal and nothing living is injured when nature, and all of her fury, marches through.
So, there I was… boxers, shirt and tie on, utter defeat on my face, and I still have to be at work by 9:00am. The boss must have their pound of flesh.
I remember a very distinct switch in my mind that turned from fret to surrender and acceptance. I can’t stop this and it will not stop because my things are in the water’s path. That acceptance instantly fed a desire to minimize the damage for both myself and my roommate, if that at all possible.
With a renewed sense of purpose, I began looking for things I could save, even as the water continued stalking me throughout the small apartment. Wires were my first target. Then, clothing (my roomy was a rather messy person). Finally, moving things more substantial from the living room floor to the locations that were now out of the reach of the creeping water, I began moving things I previously reasoned was not within my ability to save. Things like the TV and tables were the first in line to test my strength. After I’d finished my salvage goals, the water reached a height of mid-calf.
Done. Finally. Time to go to work.
Then I heard it. A buzzing. Like an alarm going off far away, the sound seemed to be sending ripples through the water.
I liked my roommate. He was my senior by more than a decade, but he was a good guy nevertheless. I wouldn’t want him to get hurt when he finally comes home after working the nightshift. Stepping down into nearly knee-high water only to find himself electrocuted because I failed to act. What kind of roomy would I be if I did nothing?
So, tracing the tiny waves, I was shocked to see a multi-outlet sending out humming waves of distress through the water.
Someone could get hurt. I better turn off that red glowing switch, completely submerged in what’s most likely very contaminated, although clear, water.
Maybe it was the adrenaline, the pressure of the moment, the thought that this is going to cost me money I didn’t have or maybe it was simply the act of a nice guy, to this day I’ve no idea what was really going on in my mind. How could a reasonably intelligent young man of twenty-six, think it wise to plunge his hand into water, literally humming, with electricity? I can only assume the assessment of my own intelligence was greatly flawed.
The initially shock was, shocking. I could feel the electrical current shoot up my arm and down through my legs. The intensity of the shock was such that I could not accurately place my finger on the glowing red switch submerged in water (HINT!). Undeterred by the universe’s attempt to save my life, my hand remained in the water as electricity vibrated both the water and my body. I attempted to hit that switch at least six times to no avail, before I finally withdrew my hand in frustration.
I can’t just leave it there. Someone could get hurt.
I think at that point, my brain was scrambled and resting between two pieces of toasted, wheat bread. I say that because I again plunged my hand into the water, fighting my own reason and all of the physical signals that tell you not to do something so monumentally foolish. Still determined to save my friend, I finally hit my mark and clicked off the electricity running through the multi-outlet strip. The humming stopped, the water ceased rippling and I saved my roommate from getting the shock of his life.
Finally getting to the office, flustered and somewhat confused, I called everyone I needed to alert of the problem, including my roommate. It was here, within the confines of my cubicle, did the reality of the situation strike me.
What the fuck was I thinking! I could have died! I completed a circuit with my body!
My fingertips remained numb for week and once again I cheated death.
What the hell?
The sound reminded me a hard rain striking polished concrete. On a normal day I’d enjoy that natural music, but this time, it struck a cord of fear in me. The problem was, I was laying down in the bed of my shared apartment that was nestled in Jersey City. The brownstone was fairly new, nothing like the old building I abandoned up in the Bronx. That place was much further away from Manhattan, where I actually wanted to be, but steadfastly refused and/or was unable to pay to live there. Instead, I chose Jersey City. I thought at the time being fifteen minutes from the famous Madison Square Garden was worth the extra dollar on the extremely limited, and overly crowded, NJ subway system dubbed the PATH.
I still have no idea what that acronym stands for.
Reflexively, I grabbed my glasses always stationed within arm’s reach, and checked the time on my alarm clock. The green glowing numbers informed me that I still have another fifteen minutes before I must rise and get dressed for work.
Where the hell is that sound coming from?
Opening the door of my room, I craned my neck to see down the hallway and out of the window in the not-so-distance living room.
Oh, it’s still raining. Wow, it’s pouring out there.
I still remember thinking how loud the sound of the rain was as it struck the windows with intense fervor. But, even with my eyes locating the source of the sound, something still didn’t feel quite right. The sound… it didn’t feel right.
With a shrug, I turned back to my room, grabbed articles of clothing to wear for work, and headed to the bathroom. As I passed through the hallway and into the kitchen, I rubbed my hand across my cheek, knowing I’m going to have to shave today, but not looking forward to the experience. I still don’t enjoy shaving, but it’s a chore I know I must do if I want to look like I belong in a cubicle. Looking into the small vanity mirror, I debated whether or not to actually use the razor. I mean, the stumble wasn’t that noticeable I thought.
That’s when I saw it. Shower curtain drawn, I witnessed the most curious of things. The water in the bathtub was flowing in reverse. Thus far, the water gathered two inches inside of the tub. Even more curious, the water was rising, slowly, steadily, and showed no signs of ceasing.
Like during a dream, we ignore the most bizarre things, allowing the weird to pass without acting. So when I think about it, it was strange for me to begin brushing my teeth and act as if was rising in the tub was not of concern.
That’s really odd. The water’s still not going down the drain.
There’s something ominous about water backing up into your home. It only grows in danger as the moments continue to pass. Never stopping, never slowing down, it just continues to grow. For every inch the water rose I thought, it has to stop now, right? I turned to mirror, continuing my daily ritual of preparing myself to look presentable to the world, all the while a growing dread rose just inches from me in the tub as well as and my chest.
Wow, that’s a lot of water.
It wasn’t until I notice the water in the toilet begin to march up the white, shiny bowl that I stopped thinking it’s going to cease on its own.
Why I closed the toilet lid is a question I could never answer, at least not logically. The act was born out of pure desperation and confusion. Somewhere in my thoughts the idea of the toilet lid, plunging the fluid into darkness, would stop the water’s progress. Nonsense. Even after the blue plastic of the lid thudded against the cushioned seat, I knew shit… literally, was probably going to be hitting the fan.
Boxers on my ass and the day’s clothes in hand, I dashed back to my room and grabbed the essentially.
Wrist watch
Wallet
Keys
Ring (my dad’s blue sapphire pinkie ring, which I still own and love)
Socks
Shoes
Backpack
It’s funny how hope pops up when it shouldn’t. It does so knowing it’ll be dashed to pieces within the next few breaths, but there it was, telling me this water isn’t going to spill over and actually hit the floor. That’s crazy. This is Jersey City, it’s a major city in the state of New Jersey, there’s no way this should be happening in a place like this. Maybe it’ll all just sink down and disappear.
The sound of water slapping the checked tile on the bathroom floor announced to the world that hope is now dead.
Like the eternal, ever-present and completely unstoppable villain in a B-level slasher movie, the water appeared at the foot of the hallway, already engulfing the kitchen.
Suddenly driven by the fear that I’ll have to leave this apartment wearing nothing but my boxers, I turned back into the room and immediately begin lifting things off of the floor and donning my clothes for the day... minus pants.
A minute later, and just like any good slasher movie, the villain appears at the edge of my room, hiding just out of sight, ready to attack.
Goddamn it!
There is a feeling of utter powerlessness that overwhelms the mind during a flood. I suspect it’s very much the same feeling for anyone so unfortunate to be caught in any natural disaster. There’s nothing you can do. There’s no reasoning with the elements. There’s no plea that will cause the water to abate. It will strike if you are in its path and the loss it was create is inevitable and unavoidable. One can only pray that the damage remains minimal and nothing living is injured when nature, and all of her fury, marches through.
So, there I was… boxers, shirt and tie on, utter defeat on my face, and I still have to be at work by 9:00am. The boss must have their pound of flesh.
I remember a very distinct switch in my mind that turned from fret to surrender and acceptance. I can’t stop this and it will not stop because my things are in the water’s path. That acceptance instantly fed a desire to minimize the damage for both myself and my roommate, if that at all possible.
With a renewed sense of purpose, I began looking for things I could save, even as the water continued stalking me throughout the small apartment. Wires were my first target. Then, clothing (my roomy was a rather messy person). Finally, moving things more substantial from the living room floor to the locations that were now out of the reach of the creeping water, I began moving things I previously reasoned was not within my ability to save. Things like the TV and tables were the first in line to test my strength. After I’d finished my salvage goals, the water reached a height of mid-calf.
Done. Finally. Time to go to work.
Then I heard it. A buzzing. Like an alarm going off far away, the sound seemed to be sending ripples through the water.
I liked my roommate. He was my senior by more than a decade, but he was a good guy nevertheless. I wouldn’t want him to get hurt when he finally comes home after working the nightshift. Stepping down into nearly knee-high water only to find himself electrocuted because I failed to act. What kind of roomy would I be if I did nothing?
So, tracing the tiny waves, I was shocked to see a multi-outlet sending out humming waves of distress through the water.
Someone could get hurt. I better turn off that red glowing switch, completely submerged in what’s most likely very contaminated, although clear, water.
Maybe it was the adrenaline, the pressure of the moment, the thought that this is going to cost me money I didn’t have or maybe it was simply the act of a nice guy, to this day I’ve no idea what was really going on in my mind. How could a reasonably intelligent young man of twenty-six, think it wise to plunge his hand into water, literally humming, with electricity? I can only assume the assessment of my own intelligence was greatly flawed.
The initially shock was, shocking. I could feel the electrical current shoot up my arm and down through my legs. The intensity of the shock was such that I could not accurately place my finger on the glowing red switch submerged in water (HINT!). Undeterred by the universe’s attempt to save my life, my hand remained in the water as electricity vibrated both the water and my body. I attempted to hit that switch at least six times to no avail, before I finally withdrew my hand in frustration.
I can’t just leave it there. Someone could get hurt.
I think at that point, my brain was scrambled and resting between two pieces of toasted, wheat bread. I say that because I again plunged my hand into the water, fighting my own reason and all of the physical signals that tell you not to do something so monumentally foolish. Still determined to save my friend, I finally hit my mark and clicked off the electricity running through the multi-outlet strip. The humming stopped, the water ceased rippling and I saved my roommate from getting the shock of his life.
Finally getting to the office, flustered and somewhat confused, I called everyone I needed to alert of the problem, including my roommate. It was here, within the confines of my cubicle, did the reality of the situation strike me.
What the fuck was I thinking! I could have died! I completed a circuit with my body!
My fingertips remained numb for week and once again I cheated death.