The Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

September 16^th, 2010
Nine Days After the Fire

Well, we all knew it was coming, didn’t we girls? The Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day. Lurking like a shadow, waiting to strike. Ta-dum.

I woke this morning and looked at my to-do list and froze.  I can’t do this. I just can’t.  I need my Mommy, my BFFs, someone to hold my hand while I do these hideous errands. I panicked. Could I fly someone out?  Could they be here by noon?  Oh, my God, I’m going to have to do this alone. Or not.  I picked up my cell, and flipped through my phone book. WhocanIcall, WhocanIcall… Oh, God, the battery was dead. What now?  E-mail.

I emailed Gail Storey,and here is our correspondence:

On Wed, Sep 15, 2010 at 10:03 AM, Andi O’Conor wrote:
Hi Gail,

I’m at Beth’s – kind of frozen in overwhelm. Do you know where she lives?  Can you come here?

Andi

On Wed, Sep 15, 2010, at 10:27 AM, Gail Storey wrote:
Hi Andi,

I’m coming, I can be there at 11 a.m. I’m so glad you asked me, I’ve been thinking of you all morning.  I’m making us salads for lunch, and if you’d rather go over to the Dining Hall for lunch that’s fine too. Anything else in particular you’d like me to bring?

Love,
Gail

It took only TWENTY-FOUR MINUTES and I was saved. Gail was my Mom for the Day and all around Saint.  She held my hand, helped me move the rest of my stuff from Beth’s to the Cottage, fed me the best spinach salad I’ve ever had in my life, and took Nellie for endless walks while I did the dreaded rounds of the Red Cross, Boulder County Emergency Assistance, the Justice Center, and other really not-fun stuff.

At the Justice Center I picked up a permit that will get me through the checkpoints and up the mountain on Friday, when I go see the remains of the house for the first time.  It was a weepy experience all around, from the security guys at the front door, who took one look at my face and said, “Permits? Second Floor,” to the county worker who asked, after I told her the house burned to the ground, “Was the structure completely destroyed?” Yes. Completely. Destroyed. I think that’s what they mean by BURNED TO THE GROUND, don’t you?  Fer God’s sake.

As I left the office, permit in hand, and crossed the waiting room, a young man with a press pass and a video camera stepped into my path. He was grinning from ear to ear, and asked excitedly, “Are you going to go see your home for the first time since the fire?” I looked at him and said, “Yes I am. And YOU are not invited.”  He continued to grin, and said, “May I interview you for Fox 31 News? Talk to you about your tragic experience?” I narrowly restrained myself from grabbing the video camera and tossing it out the nearest window, and instead said, “Listen. I have cried in front of strangers all morning, and I am certainly NOT going to cry in front of YOU.”

I stomped out of the room and then walked back to the security desk, where four of Boulder’s Finest were hanging around, guarding the metal detectors.  “Hey there,” I said. “There’s a guy from Fox News hanging out in the waiting room, pouncing on fire evacuees as they exit the office with their permits, asking if they want to be filmed. I’m sure he’s just a young man doing his job, but you know what? I think this is incredibly inappropriate and I would like him removed.”  They looked at me for a moment, and then a woman cop stood up, straightened her gun belt and smiled, and said, “I’ll go take care of it.”  You go, Sister. And toss him in the dumpster on the way out, okay?

I imagined writing to the head of Fox News 31 and telling him what I think of this.  Here’s what I would write:

Dear Mister Head-of-Fox-News 31 in Denver.

Perhaps you have heard of the bird, Coragyps atratus, also known as the American Black Vulture.  According to Wikipedia, “The Black Vulture is a scavenger and feeds on carrion, but will also eat eggs or kill newborn animals. In areas populated by humans, it also feeds at garbage dumps. Lacking a syrinx—the vocal organ of birds—its only vocalizations are grunts or low hisses.”

Does this sound at all familiar? Sending reporters to pounce on vulnerable fire survivors when they’re trying to get help – shame on you.

Sincerely,

Dr. Andi O’Conor
Who is Really, Really Mad

PS: At You

PPS: I’ve had a Terrible, Horrible, No Good Very Bad Day.

At the end of the day I called my friend Karen in Ohio and cried. “Maybe,” she said, “This is the worst day of all.  And now you can cross off this day and know that they’re going to get better from now on.” “Until the next one,” I said. “Until the next terrible, horrible, very bad day.”

“Yes, until the next one,” she said. “And I’ll be here for you on that day, too.”

She will. And you will too, right?

Thanks and Love,

Andi