Signs of the Apocalypse

First, there was the mass insanity in Washington. Then there was the Norweigian Sky Spiral, followed by the inexplicable selection of The Who over the Blue Öyster Cult for the SuperBowl halftime show, and more recently, the Eyjafjallajokull volcano.

I mean, seriously, who names a volcano "Eyjafjallajokull"?

But these things alone wouldn't have me on the edge of panic all by themselves...after all, there have been other mysterious music selections (ie, Milli Vanilli at the Grammys) and other object-naming anomalies (ie, a group of fully-clothed men being called "Barenaked Ladies", etc.). And Heaven knows there has been insanity and unexplained phenomena in Washington before (ie, Marion Berry, the mysterious resemblance between Chester Alan Arthur and Captain Kangaroo, etc.)



And though it might puzzle me a bit, I really can't claim that it's an apocalyptic omen that Domino's hasn't yet responded to my request to put Spam n' Cinnamon pizza on their menu. But other events are afoot that have me freaking out like Jimmy Carter at the dentist.

Here's the story: It was raining as I drove to the gym. Nothing particularly unusual about that -- in fact, there was that Irish Spring fresh rainstorm scent in the air, my wiper blades were working well, and Led Zeppelin's "Kashmir" was on the radio...so life was good. I was anticipating an excellent yoga class, and looking forward to a loose and limber day. But that's when things started to go horribly wrong.

This particular yoga class was mainly about balance; almost every movement required the ability to remain upright while contorted into pretzel-like configurations. And of course, since I'm still really new to this whole genre of exercise, about 90% of the instructions are Greek to me. (Well, OK, they're probably Hindi, but you know what I mean.) So...in addition to having to balance on dicey knees that are still recovering from track practice, I also had to look around the room to see what the heck the other people were doing in order to emulate them since I had no clue what the instructor was saying. And the moment I'd look up, I'd fall down.

I spent the majority of the class appearing to be a clone of Foster Brooks, only funny. Despite the contemplative and non-judgemental atmosphere they try to evoke with the John Tesh music in the room, I could swear I heard numerous giggles from the folks who effortlessly maintained verticality while I splattered and tumbled and toppled. It was so bad that the instructor felt compelled to come over and reassure me after class. She said "You did well!", but I could tell that she was suppressing the urge to pat me on the head and give me Kervorkian's phone number. Sigh.

But I digress; after all, me being clumsy is not particularly ominous, not even unusual. What I saw next, though, sent chills down my spine.

No, I'm not talking about the fat guy in the SpongeBob underwear, nor anything else in the locker room. I'm talking about what I saw when I got to my car in the parking lot. It was covered in mud! It was clean and shiny from the drizzle when I had walked into the gym, and now it appeared that someone had taken the vehicle to go 4-wheeling in the Mojave. From top to bottom, and on all sides, it was splattered with filth.


And so was every other car in the lot. Unless this was some hideously ill-conceived Ashton Kutcher prank, it had apparently rained mud from the sky. I quickly scanned the horizon to make sure that Skynet hadn't started the purge, but the surrounding buildings all seemed to be intact. It wasn't nuclear, then, so it must have been something Biblical.

I'm keeping my eyes open for frogs and such, and if the water in Chatfield suddenly turns red, I'm really going to start to worry. But in the meantime, I've seen no other omens, so perhaps it is just a global warming phenomenon after all. Perhaps instead of praying, all we have to do is dismantle industry, give up all our possessions, and go totally aboriginal.

I think I'll wait a week or so before I jump on the back-to-loincloths bandwagon, though. Who knows? Maybe it was just that some dust blew through the area, and we have nothing to worry about (except finding time to get to the car wash). In any case, I think I'll just take a chill pill and continue my normal routines. I may even work on my balance a bit, just in case the world does continue on for a while. Why not enjoy it while it lasts, right?