The Great Flood
There I was, sitting on the common room couch, watching Disney channel at 1 am like any respectable young adult. My roommate, who had gone to bed at a self-respecting time, poked her (clearly damp) head out of the door, and informed me of a watery situation occurring in our very own abode — quickly redirecting my attention away from the scintillating rerun of “Jesse”.
Upon arrival to the doorway, I heard a noise that could only be described as “AKLJSDNVLSKDJOWEILSDKLAKOWEI!!KLSDFL!KL!K@”, and panic began to set in. Cautiously opening the door, the roomie and I were greeted with what appeared to be a tiny personal hell — in the form of an indoor hurricane. “WHOOOSHHH!” went the 6" floodwater, pooling into the surrounding hallway. “WHAT THE HECK!” went the inhabitants (me and roomie). “FOR THE LOVE OF GOD!” went the residents of the building, groggily being pulled from the sweet safety of their beds for an inconvenient fire alarm.
Running in frantically, I stood up to my ankles in water, and felt a bit helpless. Suddenly, I couldn’t remember the value of MY THINGS. What was I supposed to “save” from the floodwaters? Are pencils hot on the market these days? Is that shoe that just floated by going to be something that I would dearly miss? Oh, ok, let me grab this tupperware bucket full of blankets and take that out — yeah, that was the perfect item to protect. HEaVeN forbid I get a bit of a chill! The struggle, am I right ladies?
Ok, fast forward a bit to when the ~*adults*~ showed up on the scene. Let me tell you, there’s something about watching a firefighter TAKE OFF HIS SHOES to walk into a dorm-building-turned-kiddie-pool that really just takes it out of you. Standing in the cold (who said it could be cold in May anyway? South Florida begs to differ), we waited for the H2O to cease its excessive yet mildly impressive flow. Now the less exciting, yet much appreciated part: nice people came, water vacs were used, fans were blown, and children were relocated back into their comfy beds.
I INTERJECT TO PROPOSE THE PERFECT FLOOD PLAYLIST:
“Riptide”, “Raining Men”, “Don’t Go Chasing Waterfalls”, “Storm Warning”, “Rain Rain Go Away”, “Hurricane”, “Wading In the Velvet Sea”, and “Cake By the Ocean”. That is all.
Back to the story. The roomie and I woke up in *not our rooms*, and proceeded to venture into the danger zone, aka, our previous home. Everything had a delightful dampness about it, and the smell was much like that one piece of clothing that never quiiiiiteeee got dry in the dryer but you just kind of gave up because HOW COULD IT TAKE THAT LONG. Upon deeper exploration, I found that with great determination, the sprinkler had taken it upon itself to FILL ALL OF THE VESSELS; did you know that desk drawers could also probably double as fish tanks? Fun fact. Anyway, the clean-up process ensued and everything was moist and such. Then it was less moist. And so on.
I INTERRUPT THIS ONCE AGAIN TO SUGGEST HELPFUL FLOOD PRECAUTIONS AND LEARNINGS FROM THIS EXPERIENCE
If you can ziploc it, you should ziploc it.
Do you really NEED all of those cups out on your desk? They will only collect ceiling rain.
Rugs feel like seaweed when submerged!
Blow-drying your stuffed animals in the bathroom is something that will probably happen if the waterpipe gods choose you for this fate.
Never underestimate the functionality of a large garbage bag. There are so many options!
And finally,
do not go chasing waterfalls. Just stick to the Disney shows and the couches that you’re used to. But do chase the waterfall if it happens in your room because someone should probably take care of that unless it’s an installation then WOW that feng shui is gonna be lit.
