marcicat (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
marcicatverse) wrote2009-09-30 11:44 pm
marcicatverse) wrote2009-09-30 11:44 pm
Entry tags:
September: A Guide to the End of the World
Unlike last month, I managed to stick with just a single title this time. It's 12 words long, but at least I was consistent. This isn't a fic, more a stream-of-consciousness ramble explaining why I have a backpack full of water in my closet.
Surviving the Zombie Apocalypse: A Guide to the End of the World
Author: marcicat
Rating: R, for language and subject material (see title)
(okay, it's really more like PG, unless you have a really vivid imagination)
Wordcount: 7500
Author's Note: The title "Surviving the Zombie Apocalypse: A Guide to the End of the World" popped into my head several months ago. "Whoa," I thought. "That's an awesome title." I wanted to use it right away, because I was worried I would forget it. Now that I've written this, I feel kind of bad -- I don't feel the content really lives up to the title. At the same time, I don't want to change the title, because then I'd be right back at square one. So I'm leaving it as is, with blanket permission to plagiarize myself in the future if I ever come up with something better.
Location Disclaimer: In addition to being the "live free or die" state, and the go-to destination for the free state movement (I really thought their logo was a badger, but it's actually a porcupine -- a sad day for Hufflepuffs everywhere), New Hampshire is also my home state. Everything in here was written with that in mind -- really, this could have been called "my personal emergency preparedness journal," except that sounds really dumb and I'd never want to read it. Some of the information is decidedly keyed towards living in the New Hampshire region. For instance, I have no idea how to survive in the desert, so if you live in a desert-type place, I encourage you to write your own survival guide, and not depend on this one. (Although if the aliens are searching for water, kudos to you on picking a smart place to live!)
Basic Breakdown of Disaster
Any time you're trying to prepare for, evaluate, or escape disaster, it's important to know just how far you'll have to go. What kind of scope are we talking about? Global (eg. ginormous asteroid), national (your country's government invokes martial law and decides to barcode everyone), local (hurricane, wildfire, crazy mayor, etc.)? There's also the possibility that it's just you -- personal disaster, whether external or internal.
Then there's the question of what kind of disaster you're dealing with. Are we talking "Day After Tomorrow" rapid environmental catastrophe, or government!fail nuclear weapon strikes? Disease, zombies, alien invasion? Sure, there's some preparedness crossover, but some things are pretty situation-specific. If you've got werewolves, silver's going to be important; for cybermen, gold's what you need (arrows work well, but remember you'll have to both have a bow *and* be able to shoot it).
Third, it's important to consider the duration of your disaster. Three day evacuation? Week-long power outage? Alien abduction to another planet? I'm just saying, only one of those scenarios requires you to have coffee plant seeds in your emergency backpack.
Really, there are so many disasters to choose from, it's hard to know where to start.
Starting at the Beginning
The beginning, for me, was elementary school. Seems like every year we did some sort of "home safety" unit -- actually, I'm just guessing that's what it was; the only thing I remember was that the teacher always asked if we had a fire escape plan for our house. This *terrified* me. The idea of my house burning down? I wish I could say it was the safety of my parents and sister that I was concerned for, but it really wasn't. Being the youngest, I always felt confident that everyone around me was both smarter and more capable than me -- it literally never occurred to me that they would be in any danger. The pets, I worried about. And my stuff. All the stuff in the house, really. I think it may have had something to do with being young -- it was the only stuff I could remember having, so it seemed extra important. Like, how could I ever sleep without my bed, and my pillow, and my sheets? Inconceivable!
I would lie awake at night, contemplating how to save things if our house ever burned down. (I also thought there were only two possible states for a house to be in: completely fine, or "burned down." Nothing in between.) I'm pretty sure my very first emergency plan involved me throwing my pillow out the window to save it from the fire.
I won't say I'm completely over my fear of fire, because that would be a complete lie. But in the grand scheme of world-ending apocalyptic events, having your house catch on fire (we're talking natural causes here -- lint trap, candle, sunlight through a prism -- not the "my house burned down because aliens vaporized it from space" situation) is not as much of a disaster as I once thought. For instance, I'm still strongly confident that my family is all extraordinarily capable of rescuing themselves, and I've learned that one can acquire new pillows, if necessary, at quite a wide variety of locations. While it would be emotionally traumatic, and certainly an incredible amount of work to rebuild/recreate/replace what was lost, and some things really are irreplaceable, there's also a positive side. There are still grocery stores, for one thing! Unless you store all your money in paper bills under the mattress, anything you have in bank accounts still exists, and there are (most likely) still lots and lots of records of it.
At this point in my life, I feel like if I woke up in the middle of the night to a fire alarm, my first thought would be "wow, that's unusual -- most of the time I can sleep right through this!" Then I would probably think "who was using the toaster at 3:00 in the morning?" If there actually was a fire, hopefully I would figure it out pretty quickly after those thoughts, then grab my glasses and get out of the house. If I was awake enough to take anything with me, it would probably be my work bag, which generally houses both my wallet (sure, those cards can be replaced, but it's easier if you don't have to) and my phone (to call 911, of course). Also, this is why I keep a spare key in my car.
Maybe That Was Too Far Back
So for years, I just thought I had an unreasonable fear of fire, which I would grow out of like a normal person. I managed to get to the point where I could go to a Chinese restaurant and not freak out when they lit that little fire thing on the table. This seemed like good progress.
Then came ninth grade. Specifically, the (what did we call the class then? English? Language Arts? Writing? I don't remember, but it was the one where we read stuff and wrote stuff) unit on (I kid you not) nuclear war. Seriously, it's no wonder kids in high school are depressed. Three years in middle school reading the same three alarming short stories every year (The Most Dangerous Game, To Build a Fire, The Birds; *every* *single* *year*), followed by high school: Z for Zachariah, Sadako and the Thousand Paper Cranes, and Hiroshima. We even watched a movie (The Day After). I remember having a dream about being in a nuclear wasteland (my brain represented this with heat and lack of trees), falling into a ditch, and being attacked by birds. Thanks a lot, public school system.
The good news was, fire didn't seem so scary after that -- you know, compared to the prospect of worldwide nuclear winter. The bad news was, my brain pretty much shut down on the whole "planning ahead to reduce fear" thing. My "plan" for what to do in case of nuclear war? To be close enough to an explosion that I was instantly vaporized. Seriously. Nuclear war is scary, scary stuff.
[Note: While searching for information about the 1950's Duck and Cover video, which I also watched in high school, I found an article on WorldNetDaily that calls my plan "absurd," and links to a cheerily exclamation-pointed and caps-locked "WHAT TO DO IF A NUCLEAR DISASTER IS IMMINENT!". It has some decent info, even though I sort of felt like a crazy person while reading it.]
Fast Forward Another Decade Or So
2005 (Okay, yes, I looked the date up on wikipedia). Hurricane Katrina -- and yes, I realize this might make me the slowest person in the history of slowness, but it was the first time I really considered the idea of a disaster of a magnitude somewhere in between "financially worrying and you'll need to buy a new pillow, but not life-ruining" and "the whole planet's gone to hell in a handbasket and the thought of survival, let alone recovery, is exhausting." For people affected, it really was at the level of "world-ending," but the rest of the country kept moving along, expecting credit card bills to be paid, and taxes to be filed, and all the rest. Eye-opening.
And suddenly, "preparedness" seemed more understandable. (Certainly more so than after September 11th, when the government advised us to stock up on duct tape and plastic sheeting. Not that those aren't handy things to have around in an emergency, it's just -- if you were only going to pick two things? I think you could do better.) "Huh," I thought. "I could, you know, try to be more prepared or something." (I don't remember my *exact* thought, but it was probably about that vague.)
Here's why I like emergency preparedness. 1) My favorite part of trips is the packing. I love packing. Making lists, putting things together, seeing all my trip stuff neatly together -- I don't know why, but that's the best part of travel for me. The actual going away? Not so much. And the coming home is just a pain -- all that laundry, and putting stuff away, and catching up on all the stuff I missed while I was gone. Emergency preparedness is like packing for a trip you *never* take (hopefully). You can pack for it, and then unpack and look at all your goodies, then pack them up again. It's the perfect packing experience for me.
2) You get to buy cool stuff. Seriously. I own a *first-aid kit* now. (Okay, two -- one's in the car.) And a hand-crank radio! See, as someone who doesn't *actually* travel, or go camping, or anything outdoors-y, there's no everyday reason for me to need any of the neat gadgets developed for people who *do* do those things. But I *like* those gadgets, and I love looking through camping magazines. "Emergency preparedness" is the perfect excuse to buy things you don't need. (Because you *might* need them, someday! You're just being prepared!)
3) It keeps me from having recurring and stressful dreams about packing. Am I the only one who has those dreams? Possibly. But I dream that I'm going somewhere, only I haven't packed, and I have to run around throwing stuff into a bag and hoping I don't forget anything important. It's not really a nightmare, not even as bad as the dreams when I think I'm back in school and can't remember my schedule. It's just not *restful,* and if there's one thing I hate giving up, it's sleep. Having an emergency backpack stocked with necessities has cut down on the packing dreams significantly. After all, if I suddenly had to go somewhere, I could just take that -- at the very least, I'd have lip balm, nail clippers, and a copy of my credit card number.
The Problem With Traditional Emergency Preparedness
It's a one-size-fits-all program -- in other words, completely useless for the vast majority of people. It's like when I was taking Driver's Ed, and we were doing one of those exercises like "out of these twenty items, prioritize the top ten you should always have in your car." And I, like most of the class, put "spare tire" in my top ten. The teacher then informed us that if we didn't have a jack in the top ten, the spare tire was useless. Which I knew, categorically, was untrue. Because I have no idea how to use a jack (or a "tire tool," which ehow assures me I'll need), so to be honest, just having them in the car isn't going to do me much good. I *do* know how to use a cell phone to call AAA, who will fix a flat tire for you, but *only* if you already have a spare tire. Ha! Take that, Driver's Ed instructor!
That was probably a poor example, but what I'm trying to say is, everyone has different things that they would consider "essential" in an emergency -- based on their skills, their likes and dislikes, what they plan to do, that sort of thing. Which is why, when faced with the prospect of "preparing for potential emergencies," most people give up way before they get to stockpiling beans and purchasing a Geiger counter. (Or possibly, like me, they just hate beans.) My advice is this: start small (figure out if you own a working flashlight before you worry about growing your own food), be realistic (I *still* don't know how to change a flat tire), and embrace the fun (glow sticks come in colors!).
A Question That Misses The Point
I keep seeing this question pop up. (Okay, twice -- once on an lj meme, and once in a training seminar about nutrition, where it was followed by what I thought was an inappropriate joke about Hurricane Katrina.) The question goes something like this: "If you were dropped in the middle of [somewhere, like the woods, for example], how long would you be able to survive on your own?"
Clearly, I am not averse to considering things like this. I just think the question is short-sighted. Here's why:
1. Why are you trying to survive on your own in the middle of [somewhere]? Have you just been dropped on an alien planet? Are you still on Earth? Is there a civilization around that you could walk to? Are you on the run? The situation clearly needs more specifics.
2. Where are you? There are plenty of places on this planet where I'd be doomed from the get-go because I have no idea how to survive temperature extremes. Also, nature scares me.
2a. From how high a height were you "dropped"?
3. What do you have with you? Your clothes? Are you wearing shoes? Do you get to keep the contents of your pockets? Were you given any time to prepare for this "adventure" and pack an overnight bag?
The truth is, barring death by climate or angry nature-beast, the average person can survive for "a while" in the wilderness. In a fanfic I read once, the author mentioned the rule of threes -- you can survive 3 minutes without air, 3 days without water, and 3 weeks without food. (Longer if you've got qualified medical help standing by.) Now, fanfic is not always a reliable source, but it makes sense, and at the very least, it's easy to remember (plus, I looked it up on Google, and apparently it's at least somewhat legitimate as a survival rule). For myself, the answer is that I hope I never end up in a true survival situation. I'd be toast. The only thing I remember from The Swiss Family Robinson is that you can eat sugar cane.
Luckily, most emergencies are of a somewhat lesser scope than being marooned on a deserted island. You will probably not be completely alone, nor completely without resources. Your survival will most likely not depend on your ability to decide which berries are poisonous or if you can make a fire by rubbing two sticks together. (Picard tried this on ST:TNG; the answer is no.)
And so the question becomes this: in an emergency situation, how long would it take for you to become completely miserable, and what can you do to keep that from happening?
An Easy Place To Start
As a practice run, so to speak, consider an "emergency" just about everyone experiences from time to time: a temporary power outage (we're talking less than 12 hours, here). Usually caused by weather (lightning, heavy snow, wind), or possibly some sort of utility mishap. It's fairly easy to be prepared for for this sort of thing.
1. Water. If you're on what we in the outskirts of suburbia call "town water," an ordinary power outage won't affect your water supply. You can keep turning on the tap and flushing the toilet all you like. Congratulations! If you have a well, you can comfort yourself by feeling smugly superior about your water quality all those times when the power *isn't* out. When it is, you should try to be prepared ahead of time by filling up lots of jugs, water bottles, the tea kettle, the bathtub -- that sort of thing. Water (for drinking, brushing your teeth, etc) is key to having an enjoyable power outage experience.
The Good News: You don't actually have to be "prepared" for this! Just look out your window from time to time. See big dark clouds? Lightning? Hear thunder rumbling? Go fill up some water bottles! There, you're ready!
The Even Better News: Let's say you weren't paying attention, and now your power is out, and you've got no water on hand. Not to worry! It's a power outage, not an apocalypse! There are still grocery stores! If you get thirsty, you can just go buy some water.
2. Lights. Flashlights are traditional, and certainly useful, but they have their own ups and downs. For instance, I have (I checked) four flashlights in my room that don't work. This is a major irritation of preparedness involving anything powered by batteries. It's like your preparation erodes away to nothing while you're not looking. Plus, batteries are expensive, and a pain to store. I want to spend my time and money on cool, fun things, not on continuously replacing batteries that wear out before I get to use them.
The Good News: Crank-powered flashlights are both fun and effective, and don't require batteries. I recommend having at least one around. Save your batteries for more useful things, like those nifty camp lanterns -- it's way better to have a light that stands up on its own and shines in many directions.
The Better News: So far, and I keep my fingers crossed as I write this (not literally, typing's hard enough the regular way), the crank-powered flashlight I have in my car seems to still work. Batteries don't mix well with the extreme heat and cold, not to mention moisture, that comes from living in a car.
3. Saving Your Electronic Devices: Unplug your computer. It's worth it. If you really want to go nuts, have an extra battery pack around that's charged up, for extended power-less computing. Also, an external hard drive is always a good choice. I've heard that it's good to unplug the television, too -- sometimes my family does it, and sometimes not. Remember, if there's no electricity, cordless phones won't work.
The Good News: A less-than-12-hours power outage is more annoying than worrisome. Even when it's very hot or very cold, you usually don't have to freak out until it's past the 12 hour mark.
The Better News: Most people have cell phones now. Between laptops on battery power, fully-charged iPods, and cell phones, you can often ride out a power outage without ever changing your electronic entertainment plans.
Don't Forget Your Car!
There are loads of great lists available online of what you should have in your vehicle in case of emergency. Lots of these lists include tools, as well as things like spare tires, tarps, air compressors, flares, etc. Here's my problem with those lists: they don't match my emergency abilities! Unless the Transformers movie depicted a realistic usage of flares, I've got no clue how to use one. My tool knowledge pretty much stops at flat head vs. phillips head.
Clearly, one solution to this dilemma would be to get myself some knowledge. Which is an excellent plan, except that in the decade-plus that I've been driving a car, it hasn't happened yet. It's one of those situations in which *strategically,* the knowledge acquisition plan is sound, but *operationally,* it's just not happening (thanks, Jon Stewart, for making that distinction clear in a humorous segment!).
Luckily, there's an alternative solution. Figure out what kind of emergencies you might run into while driving, then figure out what you're willing/able/likely to do when faced with those emergencies. This breaks down into two basic categories: times when you stay with the vehicle, and times when you leave. If you're staying, you should have warm clothes, and a flashlight. If you're leaving, you want warm clothes, a flashlight, and footwear you can walk in. (Notice my New Hampshire bias -- when it's winter for 10 months of the year, it's statistically much more likely to need a parka than a sun hat.) Here's a couple more detailed examples:
1. Car accident. However many cars are involved, or what injuries may have occurred, my number one priority is to have my phone. When I crashed my car avoiding a squirrel, what's the first thing I did? I called my mom. She told me to call the police, so my second call was to 911. I didn't have to do anything else -- no additional supplies needed. (PS: The squirrel was fine.)
a. If you are going to have to wait a while for help to arrive, it might be useful to have some supplies on hand -- in particular, blankets or warm clothing. Staying warm is important, especially after the shock and trauma of a car accident. I keep blankets and a fleece jacket in my car duffel, along with a "first aid kit" that's stocked to my ability level (band-aids).
2. Car breakdown. If you're safely located and have phone service, you're in luck! Phone a friend and wait by the car to have them pick you up. Again, warm clothing would be beneficial in the winter (or, here in New Hampshire, any time that's not July or August). You might get bored, so some paper and a pencil wouldn't go amiss. When all else fails, anagrams are a decent way to pass the time, or you could draft an angry letter to the car manufacturer.
a. No phone service, but in a delightfully safe neighborhood? First, make sure it's not *deceptively* safe -- check for Stepford-like sameness. Then cross your fingers, knock on someone's door, and ask if they can call someone for you. (Suggestion: don't go in their house! I'm not kidding with this one; don't go into a stranger's home.)
b. Somewhere you recognize, but without phone service. This is why your mom told you to wear sensible shoes. Start walking. This is really only a viable choice if you are either fairly close to home, or know there's a gas station within a few miles. In this situation, warm clothes, some kind of footwear, a hat -- all helpful. Bring your phone, your keys, and your best "don't mess with me" expression.
c. Somewhere scary and unfamiliar. For me, this unfortunately describes nearly everywhere I go -- not because I make a habit of going dangerous places, just because a lot of things frighten me and I'm not great at visual place-recognition. Stay in the car, lock the doors, and try to call 911. Supposedly, this can work even in a no-service area, but I don't know if it's true (it's not like you can just try it, you know?). Take deep breaths. Stay as calm as possible (if you're like me, it may help to freak out first, then calm down afterwards). Look for signs that give you helpful information. Choose between a) and b) based on which seems safer. Good luck!
3. Your typical everyday emergency. Hangnail, runny nose, that time of the month, suddenly entertaining children, buy sunglasses at the store and can't get the stupid hang tag off of them... The list could go on and on. This is the "your car as handy purse-like catch-all" solution. Load it up with everything you find yourself wishing you had on hand, and have confidence in the contents of your car. Some suggestions: nail clippers (absolutely key! there are things you can't do with anything but nail clippers, and they'll double as scissors in a pinch), ibuprofen, band-aids, lip balm, tissues, etc, etc, etc. Blankets are a car essential. Not only are they handy to have, it also conserves space in the house!
3a. A note on water. Water and food are clearly important, but they don't work well in the car. Water won't make it through the winter; I've tried. Okay, technically, it will sort of make it through the winter. First it will freeze, and the water will expand, ruining the structural integrity of whatever it's stored in, and then when it thaws it will leak all over. (Not that it's ever happened to me or anything...) As far as food goes, I've got plenty of squirrels trying to set up house near the engine to be willing to deal with them in the trunk as well. I try to bring water and snacks along with me on a trip by trip basis instead.
4. Some crazy thing happens (tornado, alien invasion, etc) and you feel the need to flee. For the most part, you can duplicate your emergency backpack and keep it in the car on the off chance this happens. I have mine in a duffel bag in the car, because I think it makes it look less like I'm a crazy person about to flee the country. The big exception would be the personal info. It's probably more like that your car will be stolen (or your stuff will be stolen out of it) than that you'll need a copy of the important numbers in your life without having access to your house. Plus, if you have your car, you've got a good chance of having your wallet too, and that will give you a good head start on the numbers.
The Emergency Backpack
I love backpacks. A lot. Putting together my "emergency kit" not only allayed some bad dreams and paranoia, it also gave me an excuse to buy an awesome backpack. (I had a coupon!) It's a camping backpack, so it has all sorts of fun pockets and stuff, now all jam-packed with stuff. I'm sure you could do some sort of psychological analysis of a person based on what they consider "emergency essentials" at any particular time in their life. Here's mine:
1. So, I have this fear that whatever "emergency" occurs to make me grab for my backpack will happen at night, while I'm sleeping, and I'll forget to grab shoes on the way out of the house. I don't know why I'm so hung up on the footwear issue, but there it is. I finally took my old hiking boots (the "old" implies age, not "old" as in "compared to my nonexistent 'new' hiking boots") and lashed them to the outside of the pack. Not elegant, and I have to move them every time I want to get at something inside it, but it works for now. If you're a barefooter, or simply don't have a "being without shoes" phobia, this may not be an important addition for you.
2. Top pocket -- easily accessible -- this one's only about half-full, leaving room for the "last minute" list.* It has a glasses case (with one of those "glasses repair kits" which are really just three tiny screwdrivers in it), three glow sticks, and yellow duct tape. Duct tape is useful in all sorts of situations -- holding things together, taking prisoners, fixing leaks, etc. If you're really bored, you could make a wallet out of it. It's yellow because yellow shows up easily, and it's light enough to write on. (So you can leave messages for people, or mark your trail through the forest, or whatever.)
[*There are some things that should clearly be included in an emergency backpack that just aren't practical to leave in it all the time. That's my "list of things to grab at the last minute" (poorly named, but I guess it gets the message across). Wallet, cell phone, and glasses are the top priorities (glasses first -- I'm super near-sighted, and would be in serious trouble without them).]
There are also two mini-kits in the top pocket. One is the "Pocket Survival Pak." I LOLed like crazy when I read the reviews on Amazon.com, where people said they actually carry one of these around in their pocket all the time. (Although if I ever get stranded on an alien planet with one of them, they'll be the ones laughing, I'm sure!) And, okay, I actually have one in my car, so I sort of do have it with me a lot. It's got all sorts of handy things in it -- most importantly, it also includes directions on how to use all of them. Quick list: magnifier, mirror, firestarter, tinder, whistle, compass, fishing kit, nylon thread and needle, scalpel blade, duct tape, aluminum foil, nylon cord, wire, safety pins, pencil, note paper. All in a 4" by 5" (about) package!
The other is a first-aid kit. It's got all sorts of first-aid stuff in it (yeah, this one's not as cool, so I didn't dump it all out and look at it). I've added in a couple of pads, backup contacts, lip balm, and flower essences (five flower formula, aka rescue remedy). I have very little confidence in my first aid abilities, but even I can apply a band-aid.
3. Tiny hidden inside pocket -- backup house key and car key. Could be useful! I think there used to be a lip balm in this pocket, but it's gone now; I probably grabbed it when I ran out at some point.
4. Outside front pocket #1 -- this is the practical stuff pocket. Like, if I had to evacuate, but the world was still standing. It's got playing cards, tissues, a mini Sharpie, and a pen. Also, paperwork (in a plastic bag, of course!). Basically, all the stuff I would want to know if I got amnesia. My name, birthday, social security number, address, phone numbers, family members (and their phone numbers), medical info, bank account, license number, insurance policy numbers, etc, etc. A photocopied page of my license, credit cards, insurance card, and AAA card. A list of phone numbers -- family, neighbors, etc. My birth certificate, and social security card. I don't keep the information as up-to-date as I should, but I figure something is better than nothing.
5. Outside front pocket #2 -- not much in this one, just an emergency blanket and a pair of gloves. It's a small pocket. The gloves aren't great, just some cheap work gloves, but there's a lot of gross stuff out there that I'm not too keen on touching with my bare hands. And they'd certainly be warmer than nothing. (Some notes on emergency blankets: if you've never tried to take one out of its little bag and then put it back in? Not fun. I can't do it. They're also really noisy and crinkly. Hard to start tearing/cutting, but once there's a rip, it'll keep going.)
6. The smaller big pocket -- this one's tricky, and I still haven't found the best arrangement. It's got some gallon-size slide-lock ziploc bags in it, which are definitely useful. It only took one camping experience to learn you can't ever have too many ways to isolate things that are wet, dirty, or icky. There's also a hand-crank radio, which is cheap and bulky. I'm not crazy about it, but it was cheap, and available at the time I wanted to buy one, and it's better than nothing until I find something better. (It's important to have some way to receive information about what's going on in the world, so you know when it's safe to come back!) There's also a bunch of packets of emergency drinking water. Water's heavy, but also vital to survival. The packets have a five-year expiration date, though, and it's easier than trying to fill up a bunch of Nalgenes on your way out the door.
I'm still trying to decide how worried I am about the whole water issue. The backpack would be a lot lighter without it, and it's one of those things that gets close to my prepared vs. paranoid, "I don't want to look like a crazy person" line. Having said that, I do have a second, "auxiliary" backpack that's currently holding all the rest of the water packs. That's the one to bring along if I get to flee in a vehicle, and can carry both.
7. The bigger big pocket -- this is the clothes and toiletries pocket. Clothes first: socks (two pairs), a pair of cargo pants, a non-cotton t-shirt, long-sleeved SPF shirt, fleece gloves, and a hat. I used to have long underwear tops and bottoms in there -- I pulled them out when we had the long power outage last winter, but I should put them back. I also had a winter hat in there that got taken out during the same power outage, and I should put that back too. I figure it's pretty unlikely that I'll be completely naked at a time when I have to grab my emergency backpack and make a run for it, so I'll probably have something to work with in the way of clothes. Mostly I went for avoiding heatstroke, avoiding frostbite, and having backups in case I got wet.
8. The bigger big pocket, continued -- toiletries! Not something I usually get really excited about, but there's a lot of stuff in this category. I have one of those "organizers" from L.L. Bean (stylish disaster outfitters of the Northeast!), and while it's a little large, it does hold a lot. The front-most pocket has a bunch of handi-wipes, tampons, and two mini-sewing kits. (I know you really only need one, but they're tiny, and where was I going to put the other one? I could move it to the car, maybe.) After that I've got a pocket that has pads, painkillers, and a plastic bag (for trash). One pocket is waterproof, and has shampoo, conditioner, bodywash, and lotion. Do you really need all those things in an emergency? No, but I use the organizer for regular travel too, when it's nice to have that stuff.
Most of the stuff is basic: hand sanitizer, toothbrush, toothpaste, biodegradable soap, sunscreen, hairbrush, nail clippers, aloe gel, some cotton balls, ibuprofen, extra contacts (I wear dailies, which makes this bit easier) and eye drops. I also have a bunch of hair elastics. I don't actually use hair elastics; my hair's too short to need them. But I had long hair for years, and there was nothing more irritating than wanting to be able to pull my hair back and not having an elastic. I have a sneaking suspicion that if there's ever a world-ending apocalypse, hair elastics will be hotly contested items on the barter market, and I've got my stash ready.
[Note: After spending a year-plus working in the natural products industry, I feel pretty confident that I could cut that list down a lot. Lose the sunscreen, dump all the soaps for some Dr. Bronner's. (I'd keep the toothpaste, though -- you can use Bronner's to brush your teeth, but it's worth it to my quality of life to just have toothpaste.)]
9. Like many camping backpacks, mine has water bottle pockets on each side. After some serious experimentation, I came to the conclusion that the only thing that really fits into them gracefully is, in fact, water bottles. Luckily, there are a lot of Nalgenes kicking around the house, and I'm fairly certain no one even noticed when two of them disappeared into my room and never came out again. In what I think was an exceedingly clever move, each water bottle (they're wide-mouthed) is full of stuff. They're great storage containers, because they're waterproof (and water-tight), see-through, and easily accessible. One has tissues, another mini-Sharpie, a bandana, and a nifty whistle/compass/match holder combo thing. The other one has some trash bags, tampons, travel wipes, a neck cooler wrap, and lip balm (2 tins, 1 tube). I use a lot of lip balm -- it's light and easily packable, so I don't see any reason not to stock up to maintain my lip-balm-related quality of life in any emergency situation.
10. And then there's the stuff floating around, hooked to the outside or tucked into the waistbelt pocket. A couple carabiners (the toy kind -- it's useful to be able to clip things to other things, but I'm no mountain climber), a pocketknife, a rose quartz crystal, and of course two more mini-Sharpies (they must've come in a set, I swear, even I'm not sure why I have so many of them).
The Stockpiling Dilemma
If you put all this time and effort into an emergency backpack, and then end up hunkering down in your basement and staying put, you'll kick yourself for not learning home cannery and stocking up on five-pound bags of beans. On the other hand, you could have a whole room full of non-perishable foods and retro farming tools, and then have to abandon them if you end up taking off for higher ground.
This is the sticky wicket of emergency preparedness. What kind of emergency should you prioritize? It's easy to get caught up thinking about different things you might need, based on what might happen, and get overwhelmed by the sheer scope of it all. Here's the important point I always remind myself of: if I was in a disaster movie right now, I wouldn't be the hero. Nope, sorry, not happening. I have no secret (or not-so-secret) skills that would emerge during a disaster. I've never served in the military, never done Outward Bound, never worked summers on a relative's farm. I'm not secretly a genius, computer programmer, explosives expert, or skilled tracker. I don't speak multiple languages or know how to fly a helicopter.
In most disasters, I'm going to have two options. Go get help, or stay put and wait for help to come to me. Let's face it: in either case, my contribution to actual survival is probably going to be pretty minimal. My contribution to "not being miserable" could be fairly high. Do what you can, and make sure you have plenty of hair elastics to barter for food when rescue arrives.
Going The Extra Mile
In the category of paranoid but useful, it might be wise to consider what trade-able skills you have to offer. You know, just in case the world collapses. Regardless of what you think about war, anarchy, global climate change, aliens, or epidemics, there is a slim but real possibility that at any moment, the sun could experience a solar flare leading to a geomagnetic storm -- a strong enough geomagnetic storm could knock out power transformers, utility grids, even radio transmissions. Remember how long it took to get the lights on last December? (7 days at our house. 7 cold, cold days.) That was with the help of utility crews as far away as Canada. The interconnectedness of power grids in the US means a huge number of people could be affected, in the hundreds of millions. It would take months to recover -- years, depending on the chaos caused by people panicking. Months without electric lights, flush toilets, television, stock markets, electronic voting, air traffic control computers, inventory tracking software... You get the idea.
So, in a circa-1900 community of panicked people with no access to wikipedia and no knowing when the local stores will have products back on their shelves, what do you have to offer? Can you make a mean stew out of squirrel meat? Build simple tools? Do you own a cow? Know what plants are edible? Are you a kickass storyteller? Teacher? Knitter? Knitting would be an awesome skill. Or crocheting, if you could use it to crochet a sweater or something. When the looting starts, Old Navy's going to empty out a lot faster than the fabric and yarn stores, is all I'm saying. On that note, it might not be a bad idea to bump up the physical fitness routine, either.
For Those Who Want To Go The Extra, *Extra* Mile
Let's say you really want to take your paranoia to the next level. Hey, that's cool -- no judging here. Here's some suggestions.
1. Don't let your car's gas tank get lower than half full. That way, if you have to make a run for it in your vehicle, you'll be able to get a fair distance before you need to fill up. Since gas stations typically have a lot of security cameras, they're a good place to avoid if you're on the run.
2. Be aware of electronic devices, particularly cell phones, GPS navigators, EZ Pass scanners, and computers. Theoretically, anything that can pick up signals can also send out signals, and could be used to locate you and/or emit something potentially harmful.
3. Make a hat out of tinfoil. According to popular lore, this can help with everything from blocking alien mind-control signals to protecting your brain from the scrambling effects of cell phone usage. Plus, fashion statement!
4. Lots of people seem to think that buying a gun is a good reaction to fears of world collapse (or even localized panic). And I'm not saying I *completely* disagree, I just think there are some important considerations to ponder before you purchase a projectile firearm.
a. Can you shoot a gun? I can't. Never learned how. For those who think they could pick it up on the fly, make sure to also consider your aim (as in, do you have it?).
b. Guns require supplies. Bullets, for one. And they have to be cleaned, and stored properly. And they shouldn't get wet. If your emergency trends towards the "hunker down" route, that may not be a problem. If it's the "run away" route, you may have trouble. Do you really want to lug all that extra weight around?
c. Saving the best for last: If you have a gun, are you badass enough to keep it from being taken away and used against you? If not, you shouldn't carry one. End of story.
5. Watch disaster movies. I'm serious -- you can read emergency preparedness information till your eyes glaze over, but eventually you get sick of reading about five gallon pails and remembering to have a supply of prescription medications. Instead, watch other people go through crises on your tv screen, and figure out what you would do if, say, a meteor was discovered to be hurtling towards the Earth, or your cruise ship hit a giant iceberg.
But What About The Zombies?
Right, the zombies. Well, it's hard to say, really. Opinions vary on the skills of zombies (slow-moving or fast? can they climb walls? smell blood? do they have super strength?), as well as how zombiefication occurs (airborne? through touch? biting?) and even the best method for disposing of a zombie who's attacking you. I've read flamethrowers, baseball bats, guns, swords... Yeah, I don't have any of those things.
How defensible is your house? If you've got a safe place to stay, it might be best to wait it out. Just make sure to fortify all points of entry (don't forget the upper floors!), and don't go outside. Trust that if there really is a zombie apocalypse, you'll think of something.
The World Ends Every Day (or at least every decade)
There are certain things I consider essential to my daily quality of life. Notebook computer, cell phone, iPod, amazon.com, google, wikipedia, 24-hour access to news. A hundred years ago, none of those things existed. (Heck, thirty years ago none of those things existed.) Given the rate of change in today's societies, it seems safe to say that anyone who lives long enough will see a completely different world than the one they were born into.
In other words, it's the end of the world as we know it -- just like always. I'm certainly not the first to say it (not being a famous rock band), but I'm really hoping you can't copyright a phrase like that. Luckily, it seems unlikely, given all the world ending that's going on.
There's always going to be value in taking stock of what seems vital in our lives, and considering what would happen if it was gone. For me, it helps take me out of my day-to-day work-sleep-work-errands-work-repeat, so I can sit in traffic and think, "Hey, it's pretty cool that we have cars, and gas, and traffic lights," instead of thinking, "GREEN MEANS GO! GO, DAMMIT! GO!" The first one's a lot better for my stress level.
As a final note, it's possible that if you start thinking (and talking) about things like putting together an emergency backpack, writing a list of information you'd need if you ever got amnesia, and where you'd go if you ever had to flee in the face of a government lockdown, people may think you're crazy. Remember: you can always claim that you are simply engaging in the kind of "brain exercises" that studies have shown help keep your mind sharp as you age.
In fact, that might make a good motto. "Emergency preparedness: More fun than Sudoku!" Thanks for reading, and good luck!
Surviving the Zombie Apocalypse: A Guide to the End of the World
Author: marcicat
Rating: R, for language and subject material (see title)
(okay, it's really more like PG, unless you have a really vivid imagination)
Wordcount: 7500
Author's Note: The title "Surviving the Zombie Apocalypse: A Guide to the End of the World" popped into my head several months ago. "Whoa," I thought. "That's an awesome title." I wanted to use it right away, because I was worried I would forget it. Now that I've written this, I feel kind of bad -- I don't feel the content really lives up to the title. At the same time, I don't want to change the title, because then I'd be right back at square one. So I'm leaving it as is, with blanket permission to plagiarize myself in the future if I ever come up with something better.
Location Disclaimer: In addition to being the "live free or die" state, and the go-to destination for the free state movement (I really thought their logo was a badger, but it's actually a porcupine -- a sad day for Hufflepuffs everywhere), New Hampshire is also my home state. Everything in here was written with that in mind -- really, this could have been called "my personal emergency preparedness journal," except that sounds really dumb and I'd never want to read it. Some of the information is decidedly keyed towards living in the New Hampshire region. For instance, I have no idea how to survive in the desert, so if you live in a desert-type place, I encourage you to write your own survival guide, and not depend on this one. (Although if the aliens are searching for water, kudos to you on picking a smart place to live!)
Basic Breakdown of Disaster
Any time you're trying to prepare for, evaluate, or escape disaster, it's important to know just how far you'll have to go. What kind of scope are we talking about? Global (eg. ginormous asteroid), national (your country's government invokes martial law and decides to barcode everyone), local (hurricane, wildfire, crazy mayor, etc.)? There's also the possibility that it's just you -- personal disaster, whether external or internal.
Then there's the question of what kind of disaster you're dealing with. Are we talking "Day After Tomorrow" rapid environmental catastrophe, or government!fail nuclear weapon strikes? Disease, zombies, alien invasion? Sure, there's some preparedness crossover, but some things are pretty situation-specific. If you've got werewolves, silver's going to be important; for cybermen, gold's what you need (arrows work well, but remember you'll have to both have a bow *and* be able to shoot it).
Third, it's important to consider the duration of your disaster. Three day evacuation? Week-long power outage? Alien abduction to another planet? I'm just saying, only one of those scenarios requires you to have coffee plant seeds in your emergency backpack.
Really, there are so many disasters to choose from, it's hard to know where to start.
Starting at the Beginning
The beginning, for me, was elementary school. Seems like every year we did some sort of "home safety" unit -- actually, I'm just guessing that's what it was; the only thing I remember was that the teacher always asked if we had a fire escape plan for our house. This *terrified* me. The idea of my house burning down? I wish I could say it was the safety of my parents and sister that I was concerned for, but it really wasn't. Being the youngest, I always felt confident that everyone around me was both smarter and more capable than me -- it literally never occurred to me that they would be in any danger. The pets, I worried about. And my stuff. All the stuff in the house, really. I think it may have had something to do with being young -- it was the only stuff I could remember having, so it seemed extra important. Like, how could I ever sleep without my bed, and my pillow, and my sheets? Inconceivable!
I would lie awake at night, contemplating how to save things if our house ever burned down. (I also thought there were only two possible states for a house to be in: completely fine, or "burned down." Nothing in between.) I'm pretty sure my very first emergency plan involved me throwing my pillow out the window to save it from the fire.
I won't say I'm completely over my fear of fire, because that would be a complete lie. But in the grand scheme of world-ending apocalyptic events, having your house catch on fire (we're talking natural causes here -- lint trap, candle, sunlight through a prism -- not the "my house burned down because aliens vaporized it from space" situation) is not as much of a disaster as I once thought. For instance, I'm still strongly confident that my family is all extraordinarily capable of rescuing themselves, and I've learned that one can acquire new pillows, if necessary, at quite a wide variety of locations. While it would be emotionally traumatic, and certainly an incredible amount of work to rebuild/recreate/replace what was lost, and some things really are irreplaceable, there's also a positive side. There are still grocery stores, for one thing! Unless you store all your money in paper bills under the mattress, anything you have in bank accounts still exists, and there are (most likely) still lots and lots of records of it.
At this point in my life, I feel like if I woke up in the middle of the night to a fire alarm, my first thought would be "wow, that's unusual -- most of the time I can sleep right through this!" Then I would probably think "who was using the toaster at 3:00 in the morning?" If there actually was a fire, hopefully I would figure it out pretty quickly after those thoughts, then grab my glasses and get out of the house. If I was awake enough to take anything with me, it would probably be my work bag, which generally houses both my wallet (sure, those cards can be replaced, but it's easier if you don't have to) and my phone (to call 911, of course). Also, this is why I keep a spare key in my car.
Maybe That Was Too Far Back
So for years, I just thought I had an unreasonable fear of fire, which I would grow out of like a normal person. I managed to get to the point where I could go to a Chinese restaurant and not freak out when they lit that little fire thing on the table. This seemed like good progress.
Then came ninth grade. Specifically, the (what did we call the class then? English? Language Arts? Writing? I don't remember, but it was the one where we read stuff and wrote stuff) unit on (I kid you not) nuclear war. Seriously, it's no wonder kids in high school are depressed. Three years in middle school reading the same three alarming short stories every year (The Most Dangerous Game, To Build a Fire, The Birds; *every* *single* *year*), followed by high school: Z for Zachariah, Sadako and the Thousand Paper Cranes, and Hiroshima. We even watched a movie (The Day After). I remember having a dream about being in a nuclear wasteland (my brain represented this with heat and lack of trees), falling into a ditch, and being attacked by birds. Thanks a lot, public school system.
The good news was, fire didn't seem so scary after that -- you know, compared to the prospect of worldwide nuclear winter. The bad news was, my brain pretty much shut down on the whole "planning ahead to reduce fear" thing. My "plan" for what to do in case of nuclear war? To be close enough to an explosion that I was instantly vaporized. Seriously. Nuclear war is scary, scary stuff.
[Note: While searching for information about the 1950's Duck and Cover video, which I also watched in high school, I found an article on WorldNetDaily that calls my plan "absurd," and links to a cheerily exclamation-pointed and caps-locked "WHAT TO DO IF A NUCLEAR DISASTER IS IMMINENT!". It has some decent info, even though I sort of felt like a crazy person while reading it.]
Fast Forward Another Decade Or So
2005 (Okay, yes, I looked the date up on wikipedia). Hurricane Katrina -- and yes, I realize this might make me the slowest person in the history of slowness, but it was the first time I really considered the idea of a disaster of a magnitude somewhere in between "financially worrying and you'll need to buy a new pillow, but not life-ruining" and "the whole planet's gone to hell in a handbasket and the thought of survival, let alone recovery, is exhausting." For people affected, it really was at the level of "world-ending," but the rest of the country kept moving along, expecting credit card bills to be paid, and taxes to be filed, and all the rest. Eye-opening.
And suddenly, "preparedness" seemed more understandable. (Certainly more so than after September 11th, when the government advised us to stock up on duct tape and plastic sheeting. Not that those aren't handy things to have around in an emergency, it's just -- if you were only going to pick two things? I think you could do better.) "Huh," I thought. "I could, you know, try to be more prepared or something." (I don't remember my *exact* thought, but it was probably about that vague.)
Here's why I like emergency preparedness. 1) My favorite part of trips is the packing. I love packing. Making lists, putting things together, seeing all my trip stuff neatly together -- I don't know why, but that's the best part of travel for me. The actual going away? Not so much. And the coming home is just a pain -- all that laundry, and putting stuff away, and catching up on all the stuff I missed while I was gone. Emergency preparedness is like packing for a trip you *never* take (hopefully). You can pack for it, and then unpack and look at all your goodies, then pack them up again. It's the perfect packing experience for me.
2) You get to buy cool stuff. Seriously. I own a *first-aid kit* now. (Okay, two -- one's in the car.) And a hand-crank radio! See, as someone who doesn't *actually* travel, or go camping, or anything outdoors-y, there's no everyday reason for me to need any of the neat gadgets developed for people who *do* do those things. But I *like* those gadgets, and I love looking through camping magazines. "Emergency preparedness" is the perfect excuse to buy things you don't need. (Because you *might* need them, someday! You're just being prepared!)
3) It keeps me from having recurring and stressful dreams about packing. Am I the only one who has those dreams? Possibly. But I dream that I'm going somewhere, only I haven't packed, and I have to run around throwing stuff into a bag and hoping I don't forget anything important. It's not really a nightmare, not even as bad as the dreams when I think I'm back in school and can't remember my schedule. It's just not *restful,* and if there's one thing I hate giving up, it's sleep. Having an emergency backpack stocked with necessities has cut down on the packing dreams significantly. After all, if I suddenly had to go somewhere, I could just take that -- at the very least, I'd have lip balm, nail clippers, and a copy of my credit card number.
The Problem With Traditional Emergency Preparedness
It's a one-size-fits-all program -- in other words, completely useless for the vast majority of people. It's like when I was taking Driver's Ed, and we were doing one of those exercises like "out of these twenty items, prioritize the top ten you should always have in your car." And I, like most of the class, put "spare tire" in my top ten. The teacher then informed us that if we didn't have a jack in the top ten, the spare tire was useless. Which I knew, categorically, was untrue. Because I have no idea how to use a jack (or a "tire tool," which ehow assures me I'll need), so to be honest, just having them in the car isn't going to do me much good. I *do* know how to use a cell phone to call AAA, who will fix a flat tire for you, but *only* if you already have a spare tire. Ha! Take that, Driver's Ed instructor!
That was probably a poor example, but what I'm trying to say is, everyone has different things that they would consider "essential" in an emergency -- based on their skills, their likes and dislikes, what they plan to do, that sort of thing. Which is why, when faced with the prospect of "preparing for potential emergencies," most people give up way before they get to stockpiling beans and purchasing a Geiger counter. (Or possibly, like me, they just hate beans.) My advice is this: start small (figure out if you own a working flashlight before you worry about growing your own food), be realistic (I *still* don't know how to change a flat tire), and embrace the fun (glow sticks come in colors!).
A Question That Misses The Point
I keep seeing this question pop up. (Okay, twice -- once on an lj meme, and once in a training seminar about nutrition, where it was followed by what I thought was an inappropriate joke about Hurricane Katrina.) The question goes something like this: "If you were dropped in the middle of [somewhere, like the woods, for example], how long would you be able to survive on your own?"
Clearly, I am not averse to considering things like this. I just think the question is short-sighted. Here's why:
1. Why are you trying to survive on your own in the middle of [somewhere]? Have you just been dropped on an alien planet? Are you still on Earth? Is there a civilization around that you could walk to? Are you on the run? The situation clearly needs more specifics.
2. Where are you? There are plenty of places on this planet where I'd be doomed from the get-go because I have no idea how to survive temperature extremes. Also, nature scares me.
2a. From how high a height were you "dropped"?
3. What do you have with you? Your clothes? Are you wearing shoes? Do you get to keep the contents of your pockets? Were you given any time to prepare for this "adventure" and pack an overnight bag?
The truth is, barring death by climate or angry nature-beast, the average person can survive for "a while" in the wilderness. In a fanfic I read once, the author mentioned the rule of threes -- you can survive 3 minutes without air, 3 days without water, and 3 weeks without food. (Longer if you've got qualified medical help standing by.) Now, fanfic is not always a reliable source, but it makes sense, and at the very least, it's easy to remember (plus, I looked it up on Google, and apparently it's at least somewhat legitimate as a survival rule). For myself, the answer is that I hope I never end up in a true survival situation. I'd be toast. The only thing I remember from The Swiss Family Robinson is that you can eat sugar cane.
Luckily, most emergencies are of a somewhat lesser scope than being marooned on a deserted island. You will probably not be completely alone, nor completely without resources. Your survival will most likely not depend on your ability to decide which berries are poisonous or if you can make a fire by rubbing two sticks together. (Picard tried this on ST:TNG; the answer is no.)
And so the question becomes this: in an emergency situation, how long would it take for you to become completely miserable, and what can you do to keep that from happening?
An Easy Place To Start
As a practice run, so to speak, consider an "emergency" just about everyone experiences from time to time: a temporary power outage (we're talking less than 12 hours, here). Usually caused by weather (lightning, heavy snow, wind), or possibly some sort of utility mishap. It's fairly easy to be prepared for for this sort of thing.
1. Water. If you're on what we in the outskirts of suburbia call "town water," an ordinary power outage won't affect your water supply. You can keep turning on the tap and flushing the toilet all you like. Congratulations! If you have a well, you can comfort yourself by feeling smugly superior about your water quality all those times when the power *isn't* out. When it is, you should try to be prepared ahead of time by filling up lots of jugs, water bottles, the tea kettle, the bathtub -- that sort of thing. Water (for drinking, brushing your teeth, etc) is key to having an enjoyable power outage experience.
The Good News: You don't actually have to be "prepared" for this! Just look out your window from time to time. See big dark clouds? Lightning? Hear thunder rumbling? Go fill up some water bottles! There, you're ready!
The Even Better News: Let's say you weren't paying attention, and now your power is out, and you've got no water on hand. Not to worry! It's a power outage, not an apocalypse! There are still grocery stores! If you get thirsty, you can just go buy some water.
2. Lights. Flashlights are traditional, and certainly useful, but they have their own ups and downs. For instance, I have (I checked) four flashlights in my room that don't work. This is a major irritation of preparedness involving anything powered by batteries. It's like your preparation erodes away to nothing while you're not looking. Plus, batteries are expensive, and a pain to store. I want to spend my time and money on cool, fun things, not on continuously replacing batteries that wear out before I get to use them.
The Good News: Crank-powered flashlights are both fun and effective, and don't require batteries. I recommend having at least one around. Save your batteries for more useful things, like those nifty camp lanterns -- it's way better to have a light that stands up on its own and shines in many directions.
The Better News: So far, and I keep my fingers crossed as I write this (not literally, typing's hard enough the regular way), the crank-powered flashlight I have in my car seems to still work. Batteries don't mix well with the extreme heat and cold, not to mention moisture, that comes from living in a car.
3. Saving Your Electronic Devices: Unplug your computer. It's worth it. If you really want to go nuts, have an extra battery pack around that's charged up, for extended power-less computing. Also, an external hard drive is always a good choice. I've heard that it's good to unplug the television, too -- sometimes my family does it, and sometimes not. Remember, if there's no electricity, cordless phones won't work.
The Good News: A less-than-12-hours power outage is more annoying than worrisome. Even when it's very hot or very cold, you usually don't have to freak out until it's past the 12 hour mark.
The Better News: Most people have cell phones now. Between laptops on battery power, fully-charged iPods, and cell phones, you can often ride out a power outage without ever changing your electronic entertainment plans.
Don't Forget Your Car!
There are loads of great lists available online of what you should have in your vehicle in case of emergency. Lots of these lists include tools, as well as things like spare tires, tarps, air compressors, flares, etc. Here's my problem with those lists: they don't match my emergency abilities! Unless the Transformers movie depicted a realistic usage of flares, I've got no clue how to use one. My tool knowledge pretty much stops at flat head vs. phillips head.
Clearly, one solution to this dilemma would be to get myself some knowledge. Which is an excellent plan, except that in the decade-plus that I've been driving a car, it hasn't happened yet. It's one of those situations in which *strategically,* the knowledge acquisition plan is sound, but *operationally,* it's just not happening (thanks, Jon Stewart, for making that distinction clear in a humorous segment!).
Luckily, there's an alternative solution. Figure out what kind of emergencies you might run into while driving, then figure out what you're willing/able/likely to do when faced with those emergencies. This breaks down into two basic categories: times when you stay with the vehicle, and times when you leave. If you're staying, you should have warm clothes, and a flashlight. If you're leaving, you want warm clothes, a flashlight, and footwear you can walk in. (Notice my New Hampshire bias -- when it's winter for 10 months of the year, it's statistically much more likely to need a parka than a sun hat.) Here's a couple more detailed examples:
1. Car accident. However many cars are involved, or what injuries may have occurred, my number one priority is to have my phone. When I crashed my car avoiding a squirrel, what's the first thing I did? I called my mom. She told me to call the police, so my second call was to 911. I didn't have to do anything else -- no additional supplies needed. (PS: The squirrel was fine.)
a. If you are going to have to wait a while for help to arrive, it might be useful to have some supplies on hand -- in particular, blankets or warm clothing. Staying warm is important, especially after the shock and trauma of a car accident. I keep blankets and a fleece jacket in my car duffel, along with a "first aid kit" that's stocked to my ability level (band-aids).
2. Car breakdown. If you're safely located and have phone service, you're in luck! Phone a friend and wait by the car to have them pick you up. Again, warm clothing would be beneficial in the winter (or, here in New Hampshire, any time that's not July or August). You might get bored, so some paper and a pencil wouldn't go amiss. When all else fails, anagrams are a decent way to pass the time, or you could draft an angry letter to the car manufacturer.
a. No phone service, but in a delightfully safe neighborhood? First, make sure it's not *deceptively* safe -- check for Stepford-like sameness. Then cross your fingers, knock on someone's door, and ask if they can call someone for you. (Suggestion: don't go in their house! I'm not kidding with this one; don't go into a stranger's home.)
b. Somewhere you recognize, but without phone service. This is why your mom told you to wear sensible shoes. Start walking. This is really only a viable choice if you are either fairly close to home, or know there's a gas station within a few miles. In this situation, warm clothes, some kind of footwear, a hat -- all helpful. Bring your phone, your keys, and your best "don't mess with me" expression.
c. Somewhere scary and unfamiliar. For me, this unfortunately describes nearly everywhere I go -- not because I make a habit of going dangerous places, just because a lot of things frighten me and I'm not great at visual place-recognition. Stay in the car, lock the doors, and try to call 911. Supposedly, this can work even in a no-service area, but I don't know if it's true (it's not like you can just try it, you know?). Take deep breaths. Stay as calm as possible (if you're like me, it may help to freak out first, then calm down afterwards). Look for signs that give you helpful information. Choose between a) and b) based on which seems safer. Good luck!
3. Your typical everyday emergency. Hangnail, runny nose, that time of the month, suddenly entertaining children, buy sunglasses at the store and can't get the stupid hang tag off of them... The list could go on and on. This is the "your car as handy purse-like catch-all" solution. Load it up with everything you find yourself wishing you had on hand, and have confidence in the contents of your car. Some suggestions: nail clippers (absolutely key! there are things you can't do with anything but nail clippers, and they'll double as scissors in a pinch), ibuprofen, band-aids, lip balm, tissues, etc, etc, etc. Blankets are a car essential. Not only are they handy to have, it also conserves space in the house!
3a. A note on water. Water and food are clearly important, but they don't work well in the car. Water won't make it through the winter; I've tried. Okay, technically, it will sort of make it through the winter. First it will freeze, and the water will expand, ruining the structural integrity of whatever it's stored in, and then when it thaws it will leak all over. (Not that it's ever happened to me or anything...) As far as food goes, I've got plenty of squirrels trying to set up house near the engine to be willing to deal with them in the trunk as well. I try to bring water and snacks along with me on a trip by trip basis instead.
4. Some crazy thing happens (tornado, alien invasion, etc) and you feel the need to flee. For the most part, you can duplicate your emergency backpack and keep it in the car on the off chance this happens. I have mine in a duffel bag in the car, because I think it makes it look less like I'm a crazy person about to flee the country. The big exception would be the personal info. It's probably more like that your car will be stolen (or your stuff will be stolen out of it) than that you'll need a copy of the important numbers in your life without having access to your house. Plus, if you have your car, you've got a good chance of having your wallet too, and that will give you a good head start on the numbers.
The Emergency Backpack
I love backpacks. A lot. Putting together my "emergency kit" not only allayed some bad dreams and paranoia, it also gave me an excuse to buy an awesome backpack. (I had a coupon!) It's a camping backpack, so it has all sorts of fun pockets and stuff, now all jam-packed with stuff. I'm sure you could do some sort of psychological analysis of a person based on what they consider "emergency essentials" at any particular time in their life. Here's mine:
1. So, I have this fear that whatever "emergency" occurs to make me grab for my backpack will happen at night, while I'm sleeping, and I'll forget to grab shoes on the way out of the house. I don't know why I'm so hung up on the footwear issue, but there it is. I finally took my old hiking boots (the "old" implies age, not "old" as in "compared to my nonexistent 'new' hiking boots") and lashed them to the outside of the pack. Not elegant, and I have to move them every time I want to get at something inside it, but it works for now. If you're a barefooter, or simply don't have a "being without shoes" phobia, this may not be an important addition for you.
2. Top pocket -- easily accessible -- this one's only about half-full, leaving room for the "last minute" list.* It has a glasses case (with one of those "glasses repair kits" which are really just three tiny screwdrivers in it), three glow sticks, and yellow duct tape. Duct tape is useful in all sorts of situations -- holding things together, taking prisoners, fixing leaks, etc. If you're really bored, you could make a wallet out of it. It's yellow because yellow shows up easily, and it's light enough to write on. (So you can leave messages for people, or mark your trail through the forest, or whatever.)
[*There are some things that should clearly be included in an emergency backpack that just aren't practical to leave in it all the time. That's my "list of things to grab at the last minute" (poorly named, but I guess it gets the message across). Wallet, cell phone, and glasses are the top priorities (glasses first -- I'm super near-sighted, and would be in serious trouble without them).]
There are also two mini-kits in the top pocket. One is the "Pocket Survival Pak." I LOLed like crazy when I read the reviews on Amazon.com, where people said they actually carry one of these around in their pocket all the time. (Although if I ever get stranded on an alien planet with one of them, they'll be the ones laughing, I'm sure!) And, okay, I actually have one in my car, so I sort of do have it with me a lot. It's got all sorts of handy things in it -- most importantly, it also includes directions on how to use all of them. Quick list: magnifier, mirror, firestarter, tinder, whistle, compass, fishing kit, nylon thread and needle, scalpel blade, duct tape, aluminum foil, nylon cord, wire, safety pins, pencil, note paper. All in a 4" by 5" (about) package!
The other is a first-aid kit. It's got all sorts of first-aid stuff in it (yeah, this one's not as cool, so I didn't dump it all out and look at it). I've added in a couple of pads, backup contacts, lip balm, and flower essences (five flower formula, aka rescue remedy). I have very little confidence in my first aid abilities, but even I can apply a band-aid.
3. Tiny hidden inside pocket -- backup house key and car key. Could be useful! I think there used to be a lip balm in this pocket, but it's gone now; I probably grabbed it when I ran out at some point.
4. Outside front pocket #1 -- this is the practical stuff pocket. Like, if I had to evacuate, but the world was still standing. It's got playing cards, tissues, a mini Sharpie, and a pen. Also, paperwork (in a plastic bag, of course!). Basically, all the stuff I would want to know if I got amnesia. My name, birthday, social security number, address, phone numbers, family members (and their phone numbers), medical info, bank account, license number, insurance policy numbers, etc, etc. A photocopied page of my license, credit cards, insurance card, and AAA card. A list of phone numbers -- family, neighbors, etc. My birth certificate, and social security card. I don't keep the information as up-to-date as I should, but I figure something is better than nothing.
5. Outside front pocket #2 -- not much in this one, just an emergency blanket and a pair of gloves. It's a small pocket. The gloves aren't great, just some cheap work gloves, but there's a lot of gross stuff out there that I'm not too keen on touching with my bare hands. And they'd certainly be warmer than nothing. (Some notes on emergency blankets: if you've never tried to take one out of its little bag and then put it back in? Not fun. I can't do it. They're also really noisy and crinkly. Hard to start tearing/cutting, but once there's a rip, it'll keep going.)
6. The smaller big pocket -- this one's tricky, and I still haven't found the best arrangement. It's got some gallon-size slide-lock ziploc bags in it, which are definitely useful. It only took one camping experience to learn you can't ever have too many ways to isolate things that are wet, dirty, or icky. There's also a hand-crank radio, which is cheap and bulky. I'm not crazy about it, but it was cheap, and available at the time I wanted to buy one, and it's better than nothing until I find something better. (It's important to have some way to receive information about what's going on in the world, so you know when it's safe to come back!) There's also a bunch of packets of emergency drinking water. Water's heavy, but also vital to survival. The packets have a five-year expiration date, though, and it's easier than trying to fill up a bunch of Nalgenes on your way out the door.
I'm still trying to decide how worried I am about the whole water issue. The backpack would be a lot lighter without it, and it's one of those things that gets close to my prepared vs. paranoid, "I don't want to look like a crazy person" line. Having said that, I do have a second, "auxiliary" backpack that's currently holding all the rest of the water packs. That's the one to bring along if I get to flee in a vehicle, and can carry both.
7. The bigger big pocket -- this is the clothes and toiletries pocket. Clothes first: socks (two pairs), a pair of cargo pants, a non-cotton t-shirt, long-sleeved SPF shirt, fleece gloves, and a hat. I used to have long underwear tops and bottoms in there -- I pulled them out when we had the long power outage last winter, but I should put them back. I also had a winter hat in there that got taken out during the same power outage, and I should put that back too. I figure it's pretty unlikely that I'll be completely naked at a time when I have to grab my emergency backpack and make a run for it, so I'll probably have something to work with in the way of clothes. Mostly I went for avoiding heatstroke, avoiding frostbite, and having backups in case I got wet.
8. The bigger big pocket, continued -- toiletries! Not something I usually get really excited about, but there's a lot of stuff in this category. I have one of those "organizers" from L.L. Bean (stylish disaster outfitters of the Northeast!), and while it's a little large, it does hold a lot. The front-most pocket has a bunch of handi-wipes, tampons, and two mini-sewing kits. (I know you really only need one, but they're tiny, and where was I going to put the other one? I could move it to the car, maybe.) After that I've got a pocket that has pads, painkillers, and a plastic bag (for trash). One pocket is waterproof, and has shampoo, conditioner, bodywash, and lotion. Do you really need all those things in an emergency? No, but I use the organizer for regular travel too, when it's nice to have that stuff.
Most of the stuff is basic: hand sanitizer, toothbrush, toothpaste, biodegradable soap, sunscreen, hairbrush, nail clippers, aloe gel, some cotton balls, ibuprofen, extra contacts (I wear dailies, which makes this bit easier) and eye drops. I also have a bunch of hair elastics. I don't actually use hair elastics; my hair's too short to need them. But I had long hair for years, and there was nothing more irritating than wanting to be able to pull my hair back and not having an elastic. I have a sneaking suspicion that if there's ever a world-ending apocalypse, hair elastics will be hotly contested items on the barter market, and I've got my stash ready.
[Note: After spending a year-plus working in the natural products industry, I feel pretty confident that I could cut that list down a lot. Lose the sunscreen, dump all the soaps for some Dr. Bronner's. (I'd keep the toothpaste, though -- you can use Bronner's to brush your teeth, but it's worth it to my quality of life to just have toothpaste.)]
9. Like many camping backpacks, mine has water bottle pockets on each side. After some serious experimentation, I came to the conclusion that the only thing that really fits into them gracefully is, in fact, water bottles. Luckily, there are a lot of Nalgenes kicking around the house, and I'm fairly certain no one even noticed when two of them disappeared into my room and never came out again. In what I think was an exceedingly clever move, each water bottle (they're wide-mouthed) is full of stuff. They're great storage containers, because they're waterproof (and water-tight), see-through, and easily accessible. One has tissues, another mini-Sharpie, a bandana, and a nifty whistle/compass/match holder combo thing. The other one has some trash bags, tampons, travel wipes, a neck cooler wrap, and lip balm (2 tins, 1 tube). I use a lot of lip balm -- it's light and easily packable, so I don't see any reason not to stock up to maintain my lip-balm-related quality of life in any emergency situation.
10. And then there's the stuff floating around, hooked to the outside or tucked into the waistbelt pocket. A couple carabiners (the toy kind -- it's useful to be able to clip things to other things, but I'm no mountain climber), a pocketknife, a rose quartz crystal, and of course two more mini-Sharpies (they must've come in a set, I swear, even I'm not sure why I have so many of them).
The Stockpiling Dilemma
If you put all this time and effort into an emergency backpack, and then end up hunkering down in your basement and staying put, you'll kick yourself for not learning home cannery and stocking up on five-pound bags of beans. On the other hand, you could have a whole room full of non-perishable foods and retro farming tools, and then have to abandon them if you end up taking off for higher ground.
This is the sticky wicket of emergency preparedness. What kind of emergency should you prioritize? It's easy to get caught up thinking about different things you might need, based on what might happen, and get overwhelmed by the sheer scope of it all. Here's the important point I always remind myself of: if I was in a disaster movie right now, I wouldn't be the hero. Nope, sorry, not happening. I have no secret (or not-so-secret) skills that would emerge during a disaster. I've never served in the military, never done Outward Bound, never worked summers on a relative's farm. I'm not secretly a genius, computer programmer, explosives expert, or skilled tracker. I don't speak multiple languages or know how to fly a helicopter.
In most disasters, I'm going to have two options. Go get help, or stay put and wait for help to come to me. Let's face it: in either case, my contribution to actual survival is probably going to be pretty minimal. My contribution to "not being miserable" could be fairly high. Do what you can, and make sure you have plenty of hair elastics to barter for food when rescue arrives.
Going The Extra Mile
In the category of paranoid but useful, it might be wise to consider what trade-able skills you have to offer. You know, just in case the world collapses. Regardless of what you think about war, anarchy, global climate change, aliens, or epidemics, there is a slim but real possibility that at any moment, the sun could experience a solar flare leading to a geomagnetic storm -- a strong enough geomagnetic storm could knock out power transformers, utility grids, even radio transmissions. Remember how long it took to get the lights on last December? (7 days at our house. 7 cold, cold days.) That was with the help of utility crews as far away as Canada. The interconnectedness of power grids in the US means a huge number of people could be affected, in the hundreds of millions. It would take months to recover -- years, depending on the chaos caused by people panicking. Months without electric lights, flush toilets, television, stock markets, electronic voting, air traffic control computers, inventory tracking software... You get the idea.
So, in a circa-1900 community of panicked people with no access to wikipedia and no knowing when the local stores will have products back on their shelves, what do you have to offer? Can you make a mean stew out of squirrel meat? Build simple tools? Do you own a cow? Know what plants are edible? Are you a kickass storyteller? Teacher? Knitter? Knitting would be an awesome skill. Or crocheting, if you could use it to crochet a sweater or something. When the looting starts, Old Navy's going to empty out a lot faster than the fabric and yarn stores, is all I'm saying. On that note, it might not be a bad idea to bump up the physical fitness routine, either.
For Those Who Want To Go The Extra, *Extra* Mile
Let's say you really want to take your paranoia to the next level. Hey, that's cool -- no judging here. Here's some suggestions.
1. Don't let your car's gas tank get lower than half full. That way, if you have to make a run for it in your vehicle, you'll be able to get a fair distance before you need to fill up. Since gas stations typically have a lot of security cameras, they're a good place to avoid if you're on the run.
2. Be aware of electronic devices, particularly cell phones, GPS navigators, EZ Pass scanners, and computers. Theoretically, anything that can pick up signals can also send out signals, and could be used to locate you and/or emit something potentially harmful.
3. Make a hat out of tinfoil. According to popular lore, this can help with everything from blocking alien mind-control signals to protecting your brain from the scrambling effects of cell phone usage. Plus, fashion statement!
4. Lots of people seem to think that buying a gun is a good reaction to fears of world collapse (or even localized panic). And I'm not saying I *completely* disagree, I just think there are some important considerations to ponder before you purchase a projectile firearm.
a. Can you shoot a gun? I can't. Never learned how. For those who think they could pick it up on the fly, make sure to also consider your aim (as in, do you have it?).
b. Guns require supplies. Bullets, for one. And they have to be cleaned, and stored properly. And they shouldn't get wet. If your emergency trends towards the "hunker down" route, that may not be a problem. If it's the "run away" route, you may have trouble. Do you really want to lug all that extra weight around?
c. Saving the best for last: If you have a gun, are you badass enough to keep it from being taken away and used against you? If not, you shouldn't carry one. End of story.
5. Watch disaster movies. I'm serious -- you can read emergency preparedness information till your eyes glaze over, but eventually you get sick of reading about five gallon pails and remembering to have a supply of prescription medications. Instead, watch other people go through crises on your tv screen, and figure out what you would do if, say, a meteor was discovered to be hurtling towards the Earth, or your cruise ship hit a giant iceberg.
But What About The Zombies?
Right, the zombies. Well, it's hard to say, really. Opinions vary on the skills of zombies (slow-moving or fast? can they climb walls? smell blood? do they have super strength?), as well as how zombiefication occurs (airborne? through touch? biting?) and even the best method for disposing of a zombie who's attacking you. I've read flamethrowers, baseball bats, guns, swords... Yeah, I don't have any of those things.
How defensible is your house? If you've got a safe place to stay, it might be best to wait it out. Just make sure to fortify all points of entry (don't forget the upper floors!), and don't go outside. Trust that if there really is a zombie apocalypse, you'll think of something.
The World Ends Every Day (or at least every decade)
There are certain things I consider essential to my daily quality of life. Notebook computer, cell phone, iPod, amazon.com, google, wikipedia, 24-hour access to news. A hundred years ago, none of those things existed. (Heck, thirty years ago none of those things existed.) Given the rate of change in today's societies, it seems safe to say that anyone who lives long enough will see a completely different world than the one they were born into.
In other words, it's the end of the world as we know it -- just like always. I'm certainly not the first to say it (not being a famous rock band), but I'm really hoping you can't copyright a phrase like that. Luckily, it seems unlikely, given all the world ending that's going on.
There's always going to be value in taking stock of what seems vital in our lives, and considering what would happen if it was gone. For me, it helps take me out of my day-to-day work-sleep-work-errands-work-repeat, so I can sit in traffic and think, "Hey, it's pretty cool that we have cars, and gas, and traffic lights," instead of thinking, "GREEN MEANS GO! GO, DAMMIT! GO!" The first one's a lot better for my stress level.
As a final note, it's possible that if you start thinking (and talking) about things like putting together an emergency backpack, writing a list of information you'd need if you ever got amnesia, and where you'd go if you ever had to flee in the face of a government lockdown, people may think you're crazy. Remember: you can always claim that you are simply engaging in the kind of "brain exercises" that studies have shown help keep your mind sharp as you age.
In fact, that might make a good motto. "Emergency preparedness: More fun than Sudoku!" Thanks for reading, and good luck!