We were in this ward, once, with THE BEST Emergency Preparedness Expert ever! Seriously, I do want to give this guy credit for all of his time and effort. He will be blessed for this I'm sure:
First of all, this guy was a commercial pilot and I hate to fly and he didn't help the matter much because--as nice as this guy was, really--he ALWAYS ALWAYS ALWAYS AND ONLY wore Levi bib overalls, when he wasn't flying commercial airlines AND he cried over EVERYTHING. See what I mean? Pilots are people too, which means they could be more emotionally unstable than me! SSSSCCCCAAAARRRRYYYY!
So, this guy is the emergency prep guy and he does stuff like, cry while he's telling us the best bargains for the month at the cannery and he really cried hard when the bird flu came out and he showed us how to put on our masks, and this wasn't a paper mask purchased at Walmart, this was a full-on chemical warfare mask.
Then, he got this idea of possibly saving all of mankind--particularly those of the LDS faith and, even more particularly, those of our ward, while in an emergency situation, and, like I said, bless this guy for being willing to carry out a full-on emergency preparedness event.
The event included setting up "Generals," or whatever he called them, from the Elder's Quorum and High Priests, who would adorn neon yellow vests so they could stand out while commanding their troops on the day of event. And to make the event more authentic, signs were made--red meant blood/someone was hurt, yellow was attention needed and black was death and green was good to go/come on in for some ice cream--these were to be posted on the door of each participating house (which meant our neighbors must have been wondering what the heck was going on) to show what type of emergency attention was needed. And then, to make the event even more authentic, he called the local authorities to let them know our neighborhood would be running this exercise, so we would basically have the full support of the United States Government. And then, to make the event even more authentic, he was going to cordon off the parking lot of the church with caution tape where all of the "survivors" were going to sleep there for the night in the parking lot. And, to make it even more authentic: WE WERE ALL GOING TO RECEIVE A GRADE ON OUR PERFORMANCE, either an A, B, C, D or F, just like school all over again! I did get some good grades in high school...except for sewing. I just couldn't do it. My brain wouldn't go there. Once, when my daughter was in seventh grade, she came home and asked, "Mom, will you teach me to sew?" and I immediately stopped her in her tracks, looked at her and declared, "Never EVER swear like that in this house again." I truly believe Satan invented the sewing machine.
So, like the millionaires on Shark Tank, upon hearing about our Emergency Preparedness Event immediately, I'm like, "I'm out!" No way was I going to go through all of this rig-a-ma-roll and spend the night on the asphalt of the church parking lot because our Fridays were emotionally sacred to us. We worked so hard during the week only so we could play harder on the weekends. Yeah, on this one, I'll take the death sentence.
But, I got the feeling, by listening each Sunday as all of these plans were laid out, that we were the only ones who felt this way, so Kent and I kept our thoughts to ourselves. Yes, I had roped Kent in to my way of thinking, wbich wasn't hard at all. Just include a stop at Golden Corral and Kent was good to go.
Our door sign was delivered. We were red for blood in the home and Kent let it be known that he probably wasn't going to be available that night so he would not need the vest they dropped by, much to the chagrin and concern of his fellow brethren. We did feel a bit guilty, if that helps. This event was just too overwhelming for us, like being elected to prepare the world's largest pan of Funeral Potatoes or finding your ancestors all the way back to Adam during a 24-hour marathon; some things we just couldn't wrap our bean brains around.
So Friday comes along AND we couldn't even believe it, but we both forgot all about this Last Day on Earth Event. Satan had erased it from our minds.
So, I go to work. Kent goes to work. We talk casually, on the phone, throughout the day, not knowing what we want to do, for sure, that night, but we want to do something. So, later that day, because my car was in the shop, Kent picks me up from work and casually we drive home, so excited it's Friday! Wahooie! THIF! Thank Heaven It's Friday!
We get off the freeway, weave through some side streets and find ourselves merrily cruising along our street, "laughing all the way."
Out church is also located on our street, so while cruising along, suddenly we see our church and notice all these people gathered in the church parking lot, behind some yellow caution tape!
"Oh, wow. That's weird. I wonder what's going on over there?" I said.
Then, all of a sudden, Kent says, "It's that emergency preparedness event!"
I'm like, "Holy Yikes!" and duck, after noticing the leader in his overalls, yellow vest and HARD HAT!
Kent races past them. "I don't think they saw us," he said like an escaped parolee.
I sat up. "Whew. That was close."
We see all the houses around us, each one with a red, yellow, black or green sign on their door and the whole neighborhood is abandoned.
"Wow, great night for a robbery," I joked.
We sneak into the house, like we're the ones their after, totally afraid they're going to find us and force us to sleep on the asphalt. Quickly, we changed our clothes and got out of there the backway before anyone saw us.
That Sunday, the bishopric member thanked everyone for participating in the Emergency Preparedness Event and I worried that a tag might be added, "And good luck to all those who chose to ignore it."
Then, a couple of days later, we weren't surprised when our "F" letter arrived.
We will repent someday, and we are selfish in knowing that if a disaster really did happen, this fabulous ward really would have saved us in spite of the fact that we ditched them.
Even though the friendly pilot in overalls was a close neighbor who talked to us quite often and even offered to get us a discount on our chemical warfare masks, after this event, he rarely ever spoke to us again.
