The planet shook and for a mere second actually slowed down. Knowing me, you’re expecting this apocalyptic reference to be caused by the sight of some tall, dark, handsome stranger on the street; but I’m afraid that I’m being quite literal. Japan shook, before being submerged and, while I’m writing these words, seems to be on the verge of the most catastrophic nuclear debacle of all time.
The crazy guy on your street corner with a bit of cardboard duck-taped to his chest would claim “the end of the world is nigh” and by brandishing the bible would compel you to turn to Jesus before it’s too late. Thankfully I’m not that guy yet—give me another couple of years. And even though I would probably shag him if he was cute, I can’t shake off the feeling that he has a point. Television-free for the past eight years, I’ve successfully managed to keep away from the everyday horror stories that the news feeds the world. I wanted more time for cute little me, like when I was five-years-old and believed the world evolved around my little person. What a rude awakening to find out that it doesn’t.
A bit dim, I didn’t grasp the enormity of it all and not knowing the intricacy of a nuclear plant I reached out to someone who did. What that nuclear physicist told me, astounded me (not all my acquaintances are drag queens!). Like most people—turns out I’m not that special after all—I was at a loss about what to do. Was I supposed to keep going on my merry way? To plan my next sex-date? To get on with my ironing and to arrange my revenge on my back-stabbing slime-ball of an assistant who unsuccessfully tried to take over my column last month? Or simply to clap at Kurt and Blaine finally kissing on Glee? (I did— actually I jumped up and down in utter joy like a giddy schoolgirl.)
Or was I supposed to reassess my life and priorities? Was I to cherish what I had and the never-considered-before good fortune that I live in Madrid, a natural disaster-free zone, and hopefully away from any nuclear plants?
But my internet data research craze knew no bounds and I couldn’t stop myself turning on my computer. On finding out the incredible number of nuclear plants I was close to, I freaked out and packed my bags. Apparently central Africa was my best bet if I didn’t want to be annihilated by a nuclear mushroom. My flatmate, a drag queen, was ready to go to work and on seeing me attempting to leave the flat, slapped me in the face. “Get a grip, girl!” she said. “Thousands of people have died, countless are left with absolutely nothing and are locked away in their home praying that they’ll get through another day and you’re thinking about running away to Africa? I have a show in an hour and I need you to carry my make-up kit so drop your bag and help me you selfish prick!”
I did; apparently the show must go on, no matter what.