The Tsunami-That-Wasn't-A-Tsunami

On my list of things to do while in Hawaii:

1. Climb Diamondhead Crater [Check]
2. Spend a day at Waikiki beach [Check]
3. See a waterfall [Check]
4. Experience a tsunami [Check . . . sort of.]

Of course I'm being a bit silly--I don't really want to be in a tsunami. Today was an interesting experience nonetheless. I woke up to the sound of sirens, but was too tired to really understand that they were sirens. After learning from my early-bird grandmother that we were scheduled to have a tsunami today, I was a bit surprised, but not too worried, as I don't live that close to the water, and people had plenty of warning. Grandma and I did walk to the local supermarket, though, to stock up on some food we had needed anyway. There were hardly any cars on the road, but an amazing number of cars crammed into the tiny parking lot of the grocery store.

I've read things about how you really learn a lot about a person when that person is in trouble. I'd like to add a postscript and say you can learn a lot about a person by what they put in their shopping cart when they're bracing for trouble. It was incredible, the kind of things people in that store were shoving and piling in their carts; It looked like every cart had half the store in it. When I was standing in the checkout line it took forever to buy the stuff because the poor cashier had to ring up all the stuff the guy in front of me bought: an enormous bag of charcoal, two cakes, an enormous bag of potato chips, two full trays of green tea, SPAM (of course; we're in Hawaii!), a bag of onions, six giant containers of drinking water, frozen pizzas, I couldn't even count how many cans of soup and vegetables and things . . . It just went on and on. And there were people I saw wandering around with even fuller carts. One man passed me in the cereal aisle carrying three slices of cake. That's all. Tsunami celebration?

All in all, when comparing the contents of my basket (a box of Smart Start cereal, a carton of milk, two packages of club crackers, and ten carrots) to what everyone else was buying, I felt remarkably Spartan, and said as much aloud to no one in particular. My grandmother, hearing me, responded with "Yes, you are pretty." So maybe she didn't really hear me as well as she thought she did. Or maybe she just doesn't know what Spartan means. Anyway, right after saying this, I turn around and see an old Japanese woman shuffle politely into line behind me, pushing her cart slowly into line. And what's in her cart?

One block of tofu, and one small bottle of dishwashing soap.

Now that is Spartan. I am still imagining her living off of that tofu, making some magical dish out of it in her one cooking dish and using the soap to clean her solitary bowl and single pair of chopsticks. Wowza.

Anyway, I carried all the groceries home, ate my breakfast of cereal and milk, and then retreated to my room to study for my Nutrition exam on Wednesday. And then promptly fell dead asleep, despite the warning sirens still sounding at regular intervals outside. And guess what? I slept through the whole "tsunami", which turned out to be, what, little tiny wavelets shyly scurrying on the edge of the beaches and not daring to encroach any further inland?

I'm delighted that this means nobody was hurt and no property was damaged. But I can't help but feel a little let down, too. Today was an anti-climatic day. And now I can say that not only did I experience a "tsunami", I slept through one, too.

And I'm wondering what all those people stocking up on all that food are going to do now that there's no emergency. Maybe they can have big Post-Tsunami parties. That cake looked good.