So about 5PM yesterday my coworker and I started hearing sirens going past our building. No big deal. There are occasional traffic accidents or fire alarms in and around campus that require emergency officials to intervene, but these sirens were pretty darn persistent. Then we heard the bullhorn. Although the message was inaudible to us inside the building, a bullhorn announcement is not the norm. What the hell was going on? Idle chatter about the impending feeling of doom quickly escalated when we got the first email. Traffic was being rerouted, but there was no indication as to why. I remarked that there must be a really bad accident, possibly a fatality. Then we got the second email: street closures, rerouting traffic exiting a large parking garage, and the sirens intensified. Okay. Something is definitely going on. Then Lisa sent me an IM to tell me that the local NBC affiliate was covering a HazMat investigation in Westwood. WTF?
HazMat, for those idealically ignorant people in the world who trust that the fruit they buy at the local supermarket is really chemical-free and 100% safe, is a "hazardous materials" call to arms. This usually involves all sorts of heavy artillery including full-body protective suits, gas masks, sometimes robots, and always a big to-do. With that kind of activity in the area, I knew one thing was for sure: I had to leave immediately to avoid the cobweb of traffic snares that were sure to ensue. So I grabbed my things and fled.
Upon exiting the building, I ran into several other employees who were chatting about the excitement. What was happening? Rumors were flying that a dorm had been evacuated. Someone mentioned a chemical spill in a parking garage. I happened to look left as I crossed the street leading to my parking garage when I noticed police tape surrounding all of the buildings on an entire block, including the campus police station. That's not something you see everyday.
With my exit conspiculously planned out, taking into account my knowledge of the network of streets that I could take to get home, the pattern of behavior local drivers have displayed during previous events, and the hunger pangs brewing in my stomach, I was confident I would outsmart the other drivers and beat them at the game of rats in a maze we play quite frequently. But then I saw him... or her.
Walking toward me, at a hurried but not panicked pace, was the strangest looking vision that I can't say I've ever laid eyes on before. From the neck down this person looked completely normal. From the neck up, he/she was obviously out of their mind. Situated ever so prominently over this person's head was a contraption I'd only seen shows like Dateline and Primtime live allude to on TV. Was it a gas mask? Was it a halloween costume? I decided after careful consideration that it was instead a hazmat headress, one that made the person look like a cross between a burn victim and a storm trooper from Star Wars. This was mostly due to the swath of thick fabric, or possibly plastic, carefully fashioned in a way that left holes for the eyes and mouth. Some sort of filter covered the holes, to keep out the chemical cloud and debris I'm guessing.
I was tempted to pull over and take a picture, but judging from this person's obvious overreaction to the situation, I did not trust that I wouldn't be punched in the face. So I not-so-quiety laughed out loud, shook my head, rolled down my windows to let the breeze carry the smell of that morning's Starbucks out of the hooptie, and thought how stupid someone must be to be wearing that thing when the rest of us are walking around in open air. My hair was still attached to my head, my skin wasn't peeling off my face like that guy in Poltergeist, I was as level-headed and congnizant as I always am (which is not necessarily saying much ;-)
This morning I learned the entire incident was a false alarm. Someone had parked a vehicle with a shipment of something hazardous in a parking garage where it didn't belong, an oversight by the delivery company that stranded those parked there for 2 hours. So to the ridiculously adorned man/woman I say, nice idea, but sorry about the dumbass move, Dork!
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