No shit, there I was…
So it’s T-minus something or other and I’m beside myself with excitement. I’ve never seen an eclipse (how did I let that happen?). Now I’m in the right place at the right time and it’s gonna’ be awesome! Cars are drifting in ones and twos off the road until there are about two dozen of us in the non-descript dirt lot. We are the ones that decided the skies right here are good enough and dinking around in traffic to see the skies over there is bullshit. We are kindred spirits. This is my people! There is electricity in the air!
Folks are setting up folding chairs and digging sandwiches out of coolers. I keep glancing at the sun (with goggles on) and getting fidgety. The skies are mostly clear. It’s very hot. You couldn’t ask for a more perfect viewing setup.
Meanwhile, my family has abandoned me.
I find them inside the cafe where an aged waitress, lets call her Flo, is freaking out. There are perhaps six people in the joint, which is apparently the biggest crowd Flo has ever seen. Flo makes sure to tell every single customers, all of whom are waiting patiently, that this is “chaos… just total chaos“. Then she takes their orders and goes to the kitchen and loudly repeats the order. “Two for meatloaf, it’s a madhouse out here!” I look around. The happy half dozen people in scattered seats don’t seem to have the slightest hint of chaos in them at all. Everyone is smiling and mellow. They’d make an Amish library look like Daytona Beach after a Jose Quervo truck overturned during spring break.
The cook emerges, spatula in hand, and glances at the sparse crowd; then at me. Flo scampers by carrying a glass of water muttering something like “zone of totality, it’s a zone of exhaustion I say!” We look at each other and shrug.
My family is parked at an ancient Formica table. They’re seated in some of those old school chrome tube seats with the sticky vinyl seat cushions and reading menus that probably haven’t changed since the 1970’s. Flo and the seats are probably about the same age. My family is completely relaxed. I’m practically vibrating and they’re totally chillin. They’re reading paperbacks and waiting for Flo to manage the huge crowd and take their order. The only one who is even mildly agitated is me (and Flo).
Flo finally shows up in a flurry of complaints and everyone orders meatloaf. It’s meatloaf Monday y’all. It comes with mashed potatoes but one kid gets onion rings. I’m staring out the window. Flo harrumphs that I haven’t yet ordered. I can’t focus. I’ll be damned if I’m going to miss an eclipse because I’m too lazy to go outside! Absent mindedly, I place my order. Googgles or not I can’t quite see the sun from this location. I can’t stand it. I grab my goggles and go. I pass two people entering as I leave. In the background I hear Flo rant about the “massive crowd that is totally filling the place and also…”
I miss the rest. Three paces past the door I’m staring at the sun.
There is a tiny nibble out of the sun! Holy shit! It’s now. Awesome! Jörmungandr has risen. He’s going to eat the sun and give rise to Ragnarok… Or at least it’s going to be a rare display of solar weirdness. I’m delighted to see the show. Sweeeeet.
Then I realize I’m standing in the dirt, staring at the sun like a madman (with goggles) and nobody, and I mean nobody, gives a shit.
What. The. Hell?
Are you mixing your mythologies?
Isn’t is Apophis who swallows Ra?
I’m pretty sure every culture has a “bad thing” that swallows the “sun god” and then pukes it back up the following day.
For me it’s Crom the mighty who does the deed. Every day after a hard day fighting the Ice Giants he gets depressed over the Demon of Death Wobble and smites the “Day Star” with his +6 “Staff of Over Regulation. The following morning “The Creator” decides “I ‘aint got time for this shit” and kicks Crom and Death Wobble outside to play while he winds up the Fusion Clock and sets it back in the east.
Demon of Death Wobble. Snorts. LOL
All hail the sun god! He is the fun god! Ra! Ra! Ra! Ra! Ra! Ra!
I sort of cheered that at some Egyptian exhibit at the Minneapolis Museum a few years back. My Good Wife, who is An Artist and hence cultured and refined, sort of rolled her eyes. The staff at the museum apparently had never heard that joke before and, I must report, did *NOT* find it at all funny.
I think they have their sense of humor surgically removed as part of the benefits package.
Good for you. What is it with museums and being uptight?
If you wanted anyone there to “give a shit”, you should have worn the appropriate attire.
I suspect any of the Antifa outfits would have been sufficient.
Or better yet, one of those pussy hats!
}:-]
I eschewed the Amazon cardboard glasses and Genu-U-Whine Solar Eclipse goggles and just wore my sunglasses (prescription, so I can see distance) under my welding helmet. The helmet alone was a bit bright but tolerable, with the sunglasses on it was quite comfortable. As the moon obscured the light I could flip up the helmet or take off the glasses and let the auto-darkening of the mask self-adjust to my viewing pleasure. All in all, it was glorious.
To actually give a shit you must first take from people. You know, be one of those fucktard twats who get upset if they don’t conform to the group think.