When Disaster Strikes

The Air and Water Show is happening this weekend in Chicago. Frankly, I don't get it. Probably has something to do with my constant practicality, but unless that plane or boat is taking me somewhere, I don't care about it. I don't want to just watch it run, I want it to accomplish something. I don't see the art of it. I would much rather watch a child play with toy boats and planes and put a little imagination into it. Aside from that, all your planes are to me is loud.

It struck me though, as I was walking to work and the planes were flying overhead, that this must be a taste of what it will be like when the aliens or decipticons or the Cloverfield monster attacks. Loud fighter jets flying through the sky, people coming out of their houses and staring up wondering where the jets are going and when the next one will come, kids with fingers in their ears, crying at the overwhelming noise. I had a sobering moment of fear that I might actually experience something like that in my life. Not with aliens, obviously, if anything's going to attack, it's going to be the Kraken. He will discover a way to breed and the offspring will attack by both land and sea. Very Michael Bay. Either that or dinosaurs. But not zombies. Never zombies. What an idiotic idea. Psshh. Zombies.

It did make me think for a minute about what I would do in that situation. How I would handle it, if I'd be the first one to die, or where I would run to, what I would take from my house. Of course I'd love to pack a rolling suitcase with as much as I can and try to survive. But if I had 30 seconds and only what I could carry, I'd grab my phone, the charger, and my teddy bear, Snuggles. My phone so I could be in contact with the outside world, specifically my family, the charger because there's a chance that my battery will die before the world is saved, and Snuggles because, well because he's been with me through it all and in times of crisis, I'm going to need something to hold onto. I'm being completely sincere. Snuggs is not someone I take lightly. I don't care that I'm 24 and still sleep with a teddy bear. Whoever I date or marry is also going to have to accept it. If that's a deal breaker, fine! He wasn't worth it.

You'd understand if you saw him. If you've grown up with him. He's just like the Snuggles bear from the commercials except a little misshapen because I sleep with him every night and stuff him in my suitcase when I travel. He's not as white because he's been dropped in the dirt and in paint and fallen in the dust behind the bed. Yes, I've washed him, but he'll never be white again. Also he used to have a little tongue but I remember I ripped it out when I was little. In fact, I ripped it out while I was going to the bathroom. I told you, we've been through everything. (I don't take him into the bathroom with me now.)

I did not mean for this to become an Ode to Snuggles. But there aren't a lot of things that have been with me for this long. I don't cry a lot, but when I do, it's at night, in bed, to Snuggs. We've talked about a lot over the years. And I'm convinced there's some sort of Velveteen Rabbit/Toy Story magic happening when I leave each day. I'm sure of it.

I said you were going to learn some more about me. Glimpse into the "real me". Welp. The real me sleeps with a teddy bear and isn't ashamed to admit it.