FONTANA: Hurricane Sandy: Day One

We interrupt your regularly scheduled programming (“Keeping Up With the Kardashians”) to bring you this special National Weather Advisory:

Hurricane Sandy is coming. Stop.

Run for your lives. Stop.

Don’t actually do that. Stop.

Apparently running around outside during storms. Stop.

Is bad. Stop.

Everybody start yelling ­— maybe that’ll help. Stop.

Ahhhhhhh. Stop.

No, actually stop screaming. Stop.

Thank you. Stop.

I woke up yesterday morning to texts from friends in more centralized, safer locations across the U.S. that read, “Don’t die” and “Sandy is coming!” Selina Kyle’s gracious warning rang through my ears, “There’s a storm is coming, Mr. Wayne.” I, for one, am taking her advice — it’s time to batten down the hatches, boys!

This special service announcement is coming to you from my makeshift bunker, conveniently located in my watertight, absolutely secure, Allston basement. I’ve got walls made from excess laundry to absorb any run-off from the surge and a ceiling made from cardboard box to battle against the roaring winds. Shaw’s was all out of sandbags. My supplies include one-half filled water bottle (space for fresh rain water), a flashlight without batteries (for attacking anyone who attempts to overrun my fortress) and a box of Ritz crackers (for sustenance, of course). I think I’m as ready as I’ll ever be — bring it on, Sandy! Sandy? Where did you go?

In the morning, it looked like Sandy was sleeping in. Or perhaps Miss Hurricane was taking some advice from my man Teddy (Theodore Roosevelt for those of you less acquainted): “Speak softly, and carry a big stick.” Only in this case the stick isn’t just big, it’s hurricane-sized. Literally. This morning, however, was only a red herring, meant to lull us into a false sense of security, for by midday, it was safe to say, “Der she blows!”But perhaps calling the storm a “she” is unfair. Really, Sandy is a unisex name, and gosh darn it, or dagnabit for you more reserved folks, I say it’s about time we had a nice unisex storm for once. Sure, there might be more girls’ names than boys, and maybe they didn’t even start using boys’ names for tropical storms until 1979, but it’s nice not knowing whether I’m being bullied into hiding in my home by a girl or a boy. There’s something refreshing about nature, simply being nature.

Either way, this storm is sure to go down on a long, long list of famous people named Sandy: Sandy Olson, Sandy Cheeks and Sandy (little Orphan Annie’s dog).

I kind of hope she is like Sandy — Olson that is, not the dog — from that classic movie “Grease.” It would be great if she just rolled in, leathered up and started belting out some doo-wop tunes as she floods our streets, knocks down our trees and turns off our power. Sandy, you’re the one that I want.

But what does Sandy really stand for as a possible candidate for the 2012 general election? As defined by my dictionary, Sandy means one of the following: 1) of the nature of or consisting of sand 2) containing or covered with sand 3) of a yellowish-red color 4) having hair of sandy color. 5) shifting or unstable.While I had to run outside to check to see whether Numbers 1–4 were true — I was relieved to find that red sand was not, in fact, falling from the sky in long strings of hair — the fifth definition is rather fitting for little Sandy. However, following the etymology of the name, I found that unisexual Sandy actually means “defending man” or rather “defender of men.” Epiphany! Intrigue! Or more accurately, irony.

Does anyone feel a draft in here?

Although for a number of residents across the East Coast, this storm will surely be difficult, for most of us here in Boston, it’s rather like a gift from the great Mayan god himself — Huracan! I suppose I should be thanking Mass. Gov. Deval Patrick, too, for politely requesting all of the school in Boston to close down. Sunday Part Two really has changed a lot of things: it’s given me more time to study, sleep in and do absolutely nothing. College really does detract from one’s time to simply do nothing. This calendar change could be a revolutionary cure to those Monday blues. But maybe Sandy is just another sign in the long list that the end of the world really is rapidly approaching: earthquakes across the world, hurricanes in Boston at the end of October, Gangnam Style.

Even if the world really is ending, we’ve still got a few more months, I’d say. And if you’re reading this now, that means you’ve must have survived HSD One. Best of luck with Hurricane Sandy Day Two.

You may now return to your regularly scheduled programming.

David Fontana is a senior in the College of Arts and Sciences and a Fall 2012 columnist for The Daily Free Press. He can be reached at fontad5@bu.edu.