Comet Apocalypse with Redneck Zombies and Tacos!

P A R T II

Logistics... What’s more satisfying than a well-planned and perfectly executed strategy? Sadly, it doesn’t make for a good story.

Fortunately, though, our plans were nothing short of chaotic:

The first plan was to simply wait until the last minute to see if anyone was going to knock some sense into us… no one stepped up to the task.

Secondly, since we were all still carrying on with the escape plan, we decided to meet at my mom’s house on the west coast of Florida with all of our valuable belongings, and take it from there together.

Thirdly, we had difficulty booking a hotel that was accepting pets. After a few tries my sister found one, but it had no internet. So we ended up booking two hotels that were at walking distance from each other: one that allowed pets, and another that had internet.

In the days leading to the alleged comet fragment impact and the subsequent tsunami, my siblings were arguing about whose car was more important to save in case Florida went underwater. I had no skin in the game — I was driving a Toyota Corolla. I bought it so that I didn’t have to bask in its existence. My mom had the Toyota minivan — a winner by default. Then there was my brother’s Dodge Neon SRT-4 and my older sister’s new Mazda 6. They argued about efficiency, who would be the better driver, and even down to whose color was better. In the end, my brother’s car was chosen to be the second car for our escape — it was orange.

My boss, who was aware of our plans and the reason for my vacation request, was still on the fence about the whole situation and said, “Keep me updated on all the apocalypse, please.” I assured him that he would be the first to know if I got any news.

July 14th came, and after another round of doubts and second thoughts, we decided to bite the bullet. We’re leaving! I set out on a solo three-hour drive to my mom’s house, car loaded with my paintings, computer, documents, personal belongings, and necessities. Later, my brother and sister arrived together in the Dodge Neon with their belongings, and two cats in their respective cages.

There we were — the only four people on the planet seriously considering the possibility that Florida could be gone in the next 24 hours. My dad, who was working in NY at the time, was pressing us to carry on with the plan, and promised to take a trip to Pennsylvania’s mountains after he was done with work. In retrospect, though, I think he just wanted us to go on a trip together, regardless of the internet rumors about comets and tsunamis. My dad’s philosophy was simple: make crazy memories! "Regretting actions taken is always better than regretting not taking action."

We ate, we slept, we walked the Rottweiler, and we set out on our exodus from Florida around midnight. I transferred all of my things into my mom’s minivan, next to our beloved Rottie in her cage, and accompanied her as a passenger/second driver, while my brother and sister were some distance ahead of us in the sports car.

About two hours into our trip on the highway, I was looking at the road and the panorama beyond, and my eyes got fixated on a dot in the sky. It seemed to appear bigger and brighter as I continued to look at it.

Phone call. It’s my sister.

“Anka, are you seeing this?” Defeat in her voice.

“What are you talking about?” I didn’t want to assume, though it was obvious.

“That thing in the sky. We’re too late.” Her voice was teetering on the cliff of despair.

“It can’t be… just wait…”

“ . . . ”

“Is it blinking?” I asked.

“I can’t tell…” A tiny crack of hope in her voice.

“Sis, it’s a plane. I see it blinking, it’s all good.”

“Ah... ok, well, we’ll talk later.”

“OK! Ciao!”

Clearly, the two cars were traveling on the same road, in the same direction, but not under the same mood. We let it go there.

A few smoke stops and dog walks along the way, and we were in Georgia before sunrise.

What came next was a shift in genre entirely.

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