In all the hysteria about Hurricane Sandy hitting NYC, I looked at the evacuation map about 100 times and realized I’m only a block or two away from a Zone C.
That sounded ominously creepy to me, like I’m on the edge of something other than glory, virtually dancing on the tip of a watery grave.
But it turns out it’s sort of OK because a Zone C means you have a low likelihood of flooding and evacuation during a hurricane.
A Zone B signifies a moderate likelihood of all that.
And a Zone A represents the highest chance of such an occurrence.
I’m basically a Zone D.
And I’ve never been so happy to get a D in my life.
But still, I don’t like being treacherously close to even a low-risk evacuation area.
It means that by pure luck of the draw, I barely escaped having to flee a potential horror and sit in a public school for days.
I hated public school.
Still, I’m going to keep checking the map to see if they’ve updated it and maybe I’ve now somehow become an A.
My building has been kind of quiet this morning, so I’ve actually started thinking that maybe we were “upgraded” and they told everyone about it except me.
I don’t want any such upgrade, thank you, but if we got one, I do think I have the right to know about it.
No, wait, don’t tell me! Don’t tell me anything! And don’t think of putting me on the C list either!
For once, not one of these crazy guest lists will make me feel the least bit fabulous.
Oh, lordy. I almost made sense there.