What the Zombie Apocalypse Means to Me

Please read:

http://www.npr.org/blogs/13.7/2013/06/24/195235537/how-to-love-the-zombie-apocalypse

My very first love, several years ago, put the zombie apocalypse on my radar. It had never crossed my mind before, I’d never heard anyone discussing it, but he was into having a plan.  One evening, cuddled together, well past the first “I love you,” he started detailing his survival plan to me. At first I didn't pay too much attention, but as he continued through the plan, which I don’t remember especially well but involved his best friend (who as far as I could tell fervently wished my head would be eaten by zombies sooner rather than later), I realized that at no point in this plan did my love ever come to find me. I pointed this out, jokingly, because after all, it was a discussion about the zombie apocalypse. It was ridiculous. I expected him to say something silly like, “Of course I would come for you! I just….forgot to say that part.” Or really, ANYTHING but what he actually said, which was, “You’re weak. You’d be dead before I could get to you, so there’s no point.” 

The fact that I still bring this up in conversation 4 years later should tell you exactly how deep the wound to my soul went. He saw my devastated face and tried to make it better. “But if I saw you later, and you were a zombie, I would shoot you in the face to put you out of your misery.”

I’m not sure about other girls, but this didn't exactly strike me as a super romantic concession.

After we broke up (not over zombie issues), the first guy I went out with afterwards was beautiful and muscular and drove a little red sports car and took me out for a lovely dinner and I started to believe maybe things would someday be okay again. Just before our second date, we stopped at his apartment and while he was in another room I scanned his bookshelf and discovered that he owned How to Survive the Zombie Apocalypse, displayed right there front and center on his book shelf.

It was our last date. Not actually because of the zombie book so much as the fact that he was an ass during dinner, but still! I felt followed by zombies.

In 2011 I met my next Love and, after a time, when I was sure we were so very much in love, that this was It, that this was The One, I decided to ask the most important question I knew:

“In the case of the zombie apocalypse, would you come for me?”

Because this was It, because he was The One, because it was a STUPID QUESTION, I expected him to say, “Of COURSE I would come for you,” and heal all of my old soulwounds.

What he ACTUALLY said, after a distressingly long pause, was, “I need more information.”

I flew into a rage. “You need more INFORMATION? You need MORE information? You NEED more INForMAtion?!!”

He remained calm. “Well, yes. Where are you? Where am I? Do I have weapons?”

“This is a SILLY question. It does not require serious thought of any kind! You just have to SAY you would come for me.”

He wouldn't do it. The question plagued us for months, for the rest of the relationship even. He started asking his friends, strangers at parties, and every single person, to a MAN (and woman) with only ONE exception EVER said, “I need more information.”  Strategies were relayed, weapons were discussed. It became a whole thing. I hated it. All I wanted was for someone to love me enough to agree to come for me if the zombie apocalypse were to happen WHICH IT WON’T.  The person doesn't even have to ACTUALLY come for me, he just has to SAY he will.  IS THAT SO HARD?

I should have known then that he was neither It nor the One, but I persisted in delusions for awhile longer until we too broke up (also not zombie issues).  I went immediately for some of the usual dating sites and had soon set up some absolutely terrible dates with some absolutely terrible people, one of whom stands out because once again, the zombie apocalypse was brought up. I don’t remember why exactly, but since he started it, I decided to retell the story of my first boyfriend because at this point, it’s a just a funny story to tell during zombie apocalypse discussions.

But this guy did not think it was funny.  Instead of laughing, or smiling, or even acting awkward to my awkward story, he studied me seriously for a moment before saying, “I wouldn't shoot you.” Before I could even say “thank you?” he continued, “I wouldn't waste a bullet on you.”

I was stunned.  This really didn't seem like a great first date statement. I tried to make a joke out of it. “Ha! How kind of you to let me live in zombie form!”

“I said I wouldn't shoot you. I can think of a number of other ways to kill you.”

Maybe I’m a nervous type, but perhaps some of you others out there also feel it is a TERRIBLE IDEA to say something like to a woman you met on the internet on a first meeting.

Also a last meeting.

Despite the fact that I think the zombie apocalypse is STUPID, it has really become a force in my life, to the point that I have decided if I were to ever marry, I would only marry if we wrote our vows to say, “I would come for you in the zombie apocalypse.” And when I find someone willing to say it to me, I’ll know I've found REAL love. Or at least a man with enough brain power to understand the concept of rhetorical questions.

Guest Poster, Code Name "Becky"

Becky is the second guest poster this blog has ever had! How exciting. Below is Becky's contribution to the chronicle of the world's poor decisions:

(Becky planned to be a guest contributor so she could write about her many bad decisions. However, she's decided that she would rather remain in denial about her bad decisions-- at least for the time being--and write about the bad decisions of others instead.)

“America Fuck Yea!!”

Driving a Corvette around town so you can rev up real fast and blast pimpin’ music... this is the dream of many teenage boys, although hopefully by the time most of them grow up they realize that this makes them douchebags. Several of them don't, inevitably. But something all men should be aware of: if you live in Berkeley, California, the tree-hugging capitol of the nation, being a grown man burning rubber in a Corvette is a Very Bad Idea. You could risk losing clients, your reputation, or possibly more.

My friend Todd did precisely this, however. Todd is not the type of person one would expect to do this. Todd is a liberal, feminist UC Berkeley graduate who listens to emo music. He did not even own a car for several years, as he thought it would be fun to bike everywhere. After a while, however, he realized that being car-less might be messing up his game with the ladies. Even women who were car-less and claimed to love that sort of thing often ended up leaving Todd for men with cars. So when Todd's friend who worked at Google was moving to Africa and offered to sell Todd his Corvette for a few thousand dollars, Todd took him up on the offer.

At first Todd was weirded out by the idea of driving a Corvette around Berkeley. What if his client saw him; what if he ended up attracting like a magnet the few gold-diggers who must lurk the streets of the Berkeley? But eventually Todd got used to driving the Corvette, and even started to blast rap music while revving up on occasion. He claimed that he was doing these things "ironically," in hipster fashion (which makes it so much better, of course).
One day, however, Todd took the irony factor a little too far. While in the dollar store, he happened upon some American flags. "Wouldn't it be funny," Todd thought naively, "to buy some American flags to put in the window of my Corvette?" Tickled pink with himself and his hipster irony, Todd began cruising around Berkeley in his American flag decorated Corvette. He might have even yelled "America Fuck Yea!!!" out the window once or twice.

Todd's little "joke" lasted about one hour. He claimed, of course, he only planned on doing it for a couple days. He had no desire to pretend to be a douchebag any more than that. I could stop here, to leave you wondering what happened to Todd and just what price he had to pay for his foolishness. We know he at least made it out alive, for he lived to tell the tale.

I should also mention that all this was happening at the time of the Occupy Protests, which caused revolutionary sentiment in Berkeley to rise to a fervor comparable to the 1970s. Todd had not thought of this.

Instead, Todd made the mistake of leaving the American flags up in his window when he went food shopping. As he was stocking his cart with organic vegetarian food and reverting to his regular persona, protesters were making their way through the parking lot. Although we can't say for sure, my guess is that the protesters were not looking to make trouble. But probably the sight of an impeccable Corvette with American flags in the window was more than they can handle. And so when Todd returned to the parking lot, eager once again to play the role of a meathead and scream "America Fuck Yea!!!" as he cruised around town, he found himself in for a surprise. His beautiful Corvette had been keyed across the front, scratching the paint and probably reducing the value of the car by a couple thousand dollars.

As one might conclude, Todd no longer drives around Berkeley with American flags in his window. Nor does he rev up like a douchebag (except for a few rare occasions). Who knows who else might have happened if Todd were to have continued on his rampage unheeded? He is probably lucky his car is only scratched. So the moral of this story, for those of you who are considering putting American flags in the windows of your nice new car as a joke: Don't do it, unless you live somewhere like Kansas or you're prepared to pay the price.

Year of Firsts: Ziplining

Many of you have already heard this story, but others of you are not privileged enough to be on my exclusive email chains. If you are among the privileged, you can ignore this one.

One of my fears is a fear of heights. This is one of about four reasons I am the worst climber ever. I am also terrified of things that go fast. This is one of three reasons I do not ride roller coasters. I have a very hefty fear of sudden death. Also prolonged death.

In any case, when Alexa and I planned our trip to Costa Rica this past spring, and she said, "CAN WE GO ZIPLINING??!!!" my initial instinct was to say, "Hell no. What's the matter with you?" I am sure she expected me to answer that way, but couldn't resist asking. But when I thought about it, I realized it was another perfect First for the list, that would push past my fears and test my resolve. So I agreed. 

The day arrived when we were in Monteverde and it was time to leave the hostel and climb into a van filled with strangers including a 10 year old boy who was SO EXCITED ABOUT ZIPLINING OMG SO EXCITED. I was not so excited. I was terrified. It's all well and good to make sweeping declarations about becoming a better person and surmounting your fears but when it comes down to it, a moderate resolve doesn't make the fears suddenly vanish. 

"Why is that girl crying?" the little boy asked his mother.
"Sssshhhhh," his mother said.
"She's just a little scared," said Alexa.
"Why is she scared?" asked the boy.
"Sssssshhhhhh," said his mother.
"Grrrgllllpffft," I said, fighting the hysteria.
"Pull yourself together," said Alexa. "HE'S excited. And he's ten."
"Yup! I am!" said the boy.
"Ssssshhh," said the boy's mother.

We drove forth, and I continued to cry quietly while the boy bounced around in the backseat SO EXCITED OMG SO EXCITED.

We were herded into an area where several very attractive young Costa Rican men invaded all of our personal space and hooked us up into terrifying looking harnesses.  We were pushed out very quickly and practically ran through this new forest and up, up, up, up until we reached the first platform.  I expected some kind of orientation, but instead we were simply told, "Left hand here, right hand here, right hand far back, don't brake until we tell you. Okay, who's first?"

And then they hooked up the first person and pushed him off. 

"OH MY GOD," I said, choking on terror. 

"IS IT MY TURN YET?? IS IT? CAN I GO?" said the 10 year old boy.

"YES IS IT HIS TURN, CAN HE GO?" I said, choking on shame.

Soon, though, it was clearly my turn.

"Go, go, go!" said one of the young men, whose name we think may be Lilo. Upon looking at him, I fell desperately in love with him. He was absolutely beautiful and I could tell he was the one for me.

"Go!" he said again.  I stood frozen, unable to move or respond in any way to this command.  Misunderstanding my fear for a lack of English speaking skills, Lilo said, "Venga venga venga!!" this snapped me out of the trance and I moved forward, and so it was that Lilo believed for awhile that I did not actually understand English.  For this reason all of our interactions hence forth took place in Spanish. 

As he hooked me up, I looked across at the next platform, which at least I could see. Then I looked down.  I was VERY HIGH.  If you have not been ziplining, and you are imagining right now how I high I was, I was FOUR TIMES AS HIGH AS THAT. 

I started to cry again.

"Don't cry!" said my Love. 
"I'm....not SNIFF...crying....I don't....AAAAH....cry....."
"Mmmmhmmm," he said, and pushed me off.
I screamed.

A little bit.

As we progressed, things got higher and longer, until we finally arrived at a platform where, looking across, you could not see the end of the line. It was on this platform that somehow I found myself the last person to go, and I was left alone in cool afternoon air with my TrueLove.  It certainly was a romantic spot.  The others were much too far away to hear, the breeze rustled the millions of leaves, the colors of the forest and the graying sky swirled around us, and the air smelled like dirt and green and rain. I wanted to take a moment to enjoy our alone time together and tried to stare deeply and soulfully into his eyes, but he was busy hooking me into the harness and preparing to launch me into the unknown.  Finally though, he looked up.  Before I could think of something impressively witty to say in Spanish, he spoke.

"Are you nervous?"

"Yes. I am very very nervous."

"Me too."
I stared at him.  "What.....why are YOU nervous?"

He looked me right in the eyes and said deadpan, "Today is my first day."

"WHAT?" I shrieked.  "That's a joke. Haha! No, seriously, Is that a joke??"

He still didn't smile. "Adios," he said, and he pushed me forcefully off the platform.

I zoomed along in terror for an hour, maybe eight, until I finally saw the end of the line, and arrived in safety at the next platform.  Lilo landed soon after.

"Don't cry!" he said.

"I'm not crying!" I said, crying.

After this though, I began to get the hang of things, but it continued to look like I was crying because of the wind in my eyes as I zipped along at 800 miles/second high above the tree tops.

"Don't cry!" said everyone.

"WIND!" I shouted in Spanish.

I think that I enjoyed ziplining. I'm not entirely sure.  I know that I would do it again if there was an opportunity, but I also know that I will not be going out LOOKING for opportunities. It is certainly an Experience, and way to view things you would never otherwise see, in a way you would never otherwise feel.

Eventually, though we came to the end of the lines, and discovered there was new terror in store.

"Tarzan jump!" said Lilo.  "Daniela you will be the first to jump!"

"Ha!" I said. "Haha! First! No. Maybe I will not jump at all."

Lilo looked at me with brown eyes and I knew I would jump off that platform, however high it was. 

Despite the lovemadness, I was unable to go first. "Take this one!" I said, and pushed Alexa in front of me. Lilo shrugged, and began hooking Alexa up.

"Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuh....." said Alexa, as she peered down at the ground far, far below. But she didn't have time to say much after that because she was immediately pushed forcefully off the edge.  I do not remember her screaming. But she went flying hard and fast. When the other adventure guides down below had slowed her wild back and forth swinging and unhooked her, she called up to me as I stared fretfully down. "THAT WAS MUCH WORSE THAN SKY DIVING, JUST SO YOU KNOW," she shouted up.  Because Alexa has sky dived.

"Come here Daniela," said Lilo with his heart breakingly beautiful Spanish.  "It is now your turn."

"Oh no no no no no no no no I can't do this no no no no."

So he shrugged and pulled the next guy up and pushed him off.

"Daniela now it's your turn!"

"No puedo no puedo no puedo...."

So he took the next one. We repeated this a few more times while he would interject with things like, "This is fun!" "Look how much fun the people are having!" "You can do this!"

Finally, it was the ten year old boy's turn.

"THIS IS THE MOST AMAZING THING I'VE EVER SEEN I CAN'T WAIT TO JUMP OFF MY TURN MY TURN MY TURN! I AM SO EXCITED."

I realized I could absolutely not let this small child jump in front of me while my TrueLove watched my shame.

"No!" I said "I will go!" and I pushed the ten year old child out of my way. He was disgruntled, but his mother shushed him.

"Okay," I said as Lilo attached my harness to a rope.  "Just don't push---"

And he pushed me hard, right off the edge, without any further words of encouragement.

I screamed like a small girl child as all of the adventure guides laughed. It would seem that Alexa filmed the whole ordeal. So now we can remember the small girl child shrieks forever.

"Don't look so scared!" you can hear one of them yell.

"She always looks like that! That is just her face!" you can hear Alexa respond.

I did not cry. Probably just because I was dehydrated.

That was basically the end of the whole business, we went back to return our equipment, I said a very brief goodbye to my TrueLove who didn't seem to notice, and we got back in the van to head to the hostel.

Another successful First!