On Survivalism
I am an unabashed fraidy cat. I'm the most risk averse person you'll find when it comes to ensuring the safety of my life and limb. I would never bungee jump, skydive, or even ride a roller coaster. Too many bad stories of people who did and lived to regret it (but not for long). Including this one girl I knew in college who fell out of her parachute because the chest strap wasn't fastened correctly. Oof. Just the thought of those last seconds of her life ...
And of course, like a good fraidy cat, I am scared of all forms of transportation, especially airplanes. It doesn't keep me from flying, or driving, but I do think about crashing every time I get on an airplane. My behavior in cars (I am especially paranoid about people not seeing me when they change lanes, since that has happened to me before) freaks David out. I try to conceal it, but I don't trust other drivers. I often wish we could go back to horse and buggy days. And I was so happy that moving to my new house meant that taking the bus to work was faster than the Metro. Because, you know, the Metro is more vulnerable to terrorist attacks.
In spite of, or more accurately because of, the fact that I am a fraidy cat, I am drawn to stories of death and destruction. I am fascinated by serial killers, genocide, and now terrorism. I've probably watched every documentary on 9/11 ever made, and I'm working my way through the Katrina ones now too. Typical TiVo fare for me includes things like a 6-hour documentary on Auschwitz. On tap this week is one about Hiroshima and the new "Inside the Twin Towers." I watch all of this with the proper respect, although I'm sure you understand that I must make light of my attraction to dark subjects. I often cry in front of the tv. But I choose this.
David refuses to sit through this stuff -- he thinks it's depressing. He also doesn't really believe in insurance and thinks that I am a freak because I insisted that we buy some extra bottled water to keep around "just in case." That's as far as I've gone with my disaster preparedness planning. So far. But this feature in Slate is right up my alley in so many ways. I totally identify with the author (read the pieces in order -- the first one is background). I often think about what separates those who survive disasters from those who don't. Most of the time, it seems to be luck and location (i.e., almost everyone below the point of impact survived 9/11, everyone above died). But then there are those examples, like Jews with the forethought to flee Germany in 1938, where being paranoid can help you live.
So let's hear it -- am I a freak for being so aware of my mortality all the time? What's the connection between this and being drawn to tragedy? And, the best question of all, WHY DID I MOVE TO DC? If you read the second piece you will know that if a nuclear attack happens here, David and I will almost surely die because we live so close to the likely targets. Ugh, I need a drink. And unfortunately, I don't think watermelon water is strong enough.
And of course, like a good fraidy cat, I am scared of all forms of transportation, especially airplanes. It doesn't keep me from flying, or driving, but I do think about crashing every time I get on an airplane. My behavior in cars (I am especially paranoid about people not seeing me when they change lanes, since that has happened to me before) freaks David out. I try to conceal it, but I don't trust other drivers. I often wish we could go back to horse and buggy days. And I was so happy that moving to my new house meant that taking the bus to work was faster than the Metro. Because, you know, the Metro is more vulnerable to terrorist attacks.
In spite of, or more accurately because of, the fact that I am a fraidy cat, I am drawn to stories of death and destruction. I am fascinated by serial killers, genocide, and now terrorism. I've probably watched every documentary on 9/11 ever made, and I'm working my way through the Katrina ones now too. Typical TiVo fare for me includes things like a 6-hour documentary on Auschwitz. On tap this week is one about Hiroshima and the new "Inside the Twin Towers." I watch all of this with the proper respect, although I'm sure you understand that I must make light of my attraction to dark subjects. I often cry in front of the tv. But I choose this.
David refuses to sit through this stuff -- he thinks it's depressing. He also doesn't really believe in insurance and thinks that I am a freak because I insisted that we buy some extra bottled water to keep around "just in case." That's as far as I've gone with my disaster preparedness planning. So far. But this feature in Slate is right up my alley in so many ways. I totally identify with the author (read the pieces in order -- the first one is background). I often think about what separates those who survive disasters from those who don't. Most of the time, it seems to be luck and location (i.e., almost everyone below the point of impact survived 9/11, everyone above died). But then there are those examples, like Jews with the forethought to flee Germany in 1938, where being paranoid can help you live.
So let's hear it -- am I a freak for being so aware of my mortality all the time? What's the connection between this and being drawn to tragedy? And, the best question of all, WHY DID I MOVE TO DC? If you read the second piece you will know that if a nuclear attack happens here, David and I will almost surely die because we live so close to the likely targets. Ugh, I need a drink. And unfortunately, I don't think watermelon water is strong enough.
posted by Sandi | 3:36 PM
7 Comments:
There is that drink, Sandi, where you inject a watermelon with vodka and let it sit for a couple of days. Then drink from it keg-style. I mean, I've heard.
The Slate writer (sadly, I've already forgotten the name) does make a good case for finding a way to balance the fear -- like, you aren't wierd just because you are addicted to the documentaries. But, of course, there are many who let these fears paralyze them.
I live in New York. Even with all the rumors of a terrorist attack on the subway and the disturbing trend seen in Madrid and London, I very much doubt that we are adequately prepared.
I ride the subway every damn day.
It's amazing how you just don't think about things when you can't stand to think about them. There have been times though when I sat next to a nervous muslim guy carrying a big bag and I anxiously moved to another car (as if that would actually make a difference).
How did you know he was Muslim?
I don't think you're freakish, Sandi. Different people find different things worrisome.
I moved to NYC immediately after the first WTC bombing and the mass shooting on the Long Island Railroad. Big Dangers like the bombing never worried me while I was there; the rr shooting was another matter. When I felt uneasy, it was because of things like that -- things that worked on a local scale, where the mundane goes freakishly wrong. The half-dozen drug dealers I walked past every day on my way to and from school. Standing in the deserted subway station at Columbus Circle at 1:00 a.m. Getting into a gypsy cab (for anybody who doesn't know, that's a cab belonging to an unregistered, unmonitored, unaccountable independent operator -- they're illegal) immediately after getting off the plane at LaGuardia the first time, and realizing he could easily drive me to who-knows-where and brain me.
It was the small, suddenly quiet moments like that that caused me to worry. The moments where you're minding your own business, doing something totally mundane, and suddenly realize you're in a situation where things could very easily and quickly come unhinged.
The Big Dangers, like international terrorism, operate on too large a scale to feel real to me in my everyday life. I can acknowledge the danger intellectually, but I don't feel it.
For others, it's the other way around. Whatever the case may be, I think the coping strategies are pretty much the same, consisting mostly of keeping mind and body busy enough that you don't have time (or energy) to think about what could go wrong.
JU & Cap'n,
Good to hear from you. I'm not at all self-conscious about being afraid -- I think being afraid to a healthy degree makes you safer. I think the only reason I fear terrorism as much as I do is because I live in DC, perhaps a mile down the road from both the Capitol and the White House. (I used to live closer to the Capitol, now I live closer to the White House).
I have not had that many moments of fear of crime, interestingly. Maybe that's because I'm a woman. (Although women tend to be more afraid, statistically men are more likely to be crime victims). Certainly never was afraid of the gypsy cab drivers. Crime in New York is so much lower than it used to be. And I guess because I've watched so much American Justice, I think of crime as personal. (Well, murder anyway).
Airplanes, well, that definitely predated 9/11. It is totally about not being in control; I know all the statistics -- you would have to fly every day for 400 years to be in a crash, you're far more likely to be in a car accident, etc., but it is still always an unpleasant experience. The recent Comair crash ... ugh. The idea of dying that way.
I guess the main thing is that I think I would not have very good instincts in an emergency situation, so maybe if I think about it from all the angles beforehand, I'll better my chances.
Terry Austin:
"How did you know he was muslim?"
A lot of muslims in NYC, particularly in my neighborhood, wear robes carry prayer books in arabic and have impressive beards. Sometimes in the right cafe in the right neighborhood you can evesdrop on fascinating religious/political discussions.
But it's when someone is carrying a huge backpack and acting incredibly nervous that I get scared. Especially after a bombing in Europe, or a scare in NYC.
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