Man’s Rants: from boy to Idiot Boy (IB)

Welcome back to Man’s Rants, a guy blogger festival in my absence. Thank you to Idiot Boy for contributing today’s post. As one of IB’s followers, I admire his great writing and storytelling. Now prepare yourselves for…

The Big Blow
By IB of Idiot’s Stew

In May of 1980, Mount St. Helens erupted. At the time, I was living in a dorm at Washington State University about 350 miles east of the mountain. Shortly after the massive eruption, news reports began coming out of Spokane informing us that an ominous cloud of ash was being blown in our general direction. This was fodder for much excited conversation in the dining hall at lunch.

“What do you think we oughtta do?” a friend asked. “Should we leave? Go home?”

“I think we should stock-up on beer. Maybe get some chips too”, I said.

“It’ll be like nuclear-winter. No light for days, maybe weeks”, CJ added. “First the plants die and then…the people.”

“Jesus Christ, CJ!” someone snapped. “Can’t you see people are scared?”

“OK. OK. Shit. I’m just trying to have a little fun.”

Throughout the afternoon, the cloud of ash did indeed advance east. At 3 PM my friends and I rode the elevator up to the top floor of our dorm. At 12 stories it was one of the highest vantage points in town. There were a couple hundred other students already there when we arrived. Looking out the viewing windows, we saw the sky was black in all directions, save for east, where we saw what appeared to be a spectacular orange sun-set only, of course, it wasn’t the sun setting; it was the disorienting effect of the cloud continuing to expand and settle on the eastern horizon.

And then we were completely enveloped in black. Ash started falling from the cloud; a dirty blizzard of soot and mineral snow. We were silent. We were all a long way from home; some us hundreds of miles. We had each other, and that was good, but what we really wanted, was our mommies and daddies.

Back down in my room, a few of us huddled under blankets and watched the news. We were being warned not to go outside as unknown elements in the ash might cause our lungs permanent damage (like the black lung of coal miners). “Keep your windows and doors closed and secured. Do not go outside for any reason not immediately life-threatening,” the news-anchor said. Police began broadcasting similar warnings through bull-horns and loud-speakers across campus. We were told our vehicles would be useless to us as the ash was so fine it would get into the air-system of the car and shut the engine down while doing irreparable damage to it.

I remember looking around my room at my friends: Gil, Manny, Bruce, Mary, Dave, Mark, Tammi, Liz, Rob and the others; about 14 in all. I made eye contact with each of them searching for reassurance that we’d get through it and everything would be OK. To be honest, the girls were more than a little freaked-out, but so too were some of the guys. CJ just sat silently, in the far corner of the room, and watched the TV.

We were trapped and we knew it.

And so, we partied.

There’s nothing that’ll take the fear of impending death out of a room full of 19 year olds quicker than 3 fifths of Tequila, a case of room-temperature Budweiser and a baggie of home-grown weed. We had the stereo cranked and we played every song we could find that spoke of the end of time (the Doors were featured heavily in the rotation). There was laughing and dancing and not much nudity (despite my best efforts). All the while, the ash continued to fall.

Eventually, the group split-up and those that lived in our dorm went to their beds. Those who were from other dorms, and therefore stranded, crashed wherever they could find a place. My roommate Manny and I put up a couple of girls in our room; each of us sharing our bunk with one of the young ladies. Many times, through the course of the night, I was reminded by my friend, turned bedmate, Liz that, a) she and I were just friends, b) we didn’t want to ruin our “great” relationship and, c) I had a girlfriend back home. I countered repeatedly arguing it might be our “last chance” and how the world could end at any minute and blah, blah, blah, but Liz wasn’t buying that particular brand of bullshit. Trust me guys: if the “end-of-the-world” line didn’t work in the situation I was in that night, it never will.

The next morning we awoke to daylight as the ash cloud had moved along, but the nightmare continued. On the ground, 6 inches deep, was a fine gray powder that shifted and was drifting on even the slightest of breezes. The air was thick with it. It looked like fog. The warnings continued: “Stay indoors. Keep windows and doors closed and secured, until further notice.”

I remember we ran out of alcohol pretty quickly after the first night. And we were OK with that, but when we ran out of grass, early on day 3, I thought CJ was going to fling himself out of my 7th floor window. Yeah. That was bad.

Then we got bored.
Then we got hungry.
Then we started to bicker and fight out of frustration and for our own entertainment.

We were stuck in that dorm for 4 days.

On the evening of the 4th day came a refreshing, cleansing rain. After a couple of hours, the air cleared and it was announced through the media that it was considered safe to exit the buildings. I walked Liz back to her dorm room. We had been friends before the event and had gotten closer (platonically) through the experience. I remember her being quite animated about everything that had happened. As we walked through the gray mud across campus, she chattered about who had slept with whom, who had said what to whom, and so on; her hands dancing in front of her as she spoke. I remember laughing when she called the experience, “a big adventure”. A few minutes later, standing at her door, she hugged me and said, “Thanks, IB; you know, for taking care of me. You’re sweet.” She hugged me again and gave me a peck on the cheek.

We never got together, Liz and I, although I sometimes think our common experience that week could have been the beginning of…something. We saw each other occasionally the following year but, after that, I was gone. I haven’t seen nor heard from her since I dropped out in 1981.

Sometimes it strikes me as odd that, of the many people who were stuck in that building with me for those long days and nights, I am still in contact with only 2. I do know however, when one of my old acquaintances runs across a reference to the eruption of Mount St Helens on the internet, or on TV, they will occasionally stop and remember our “big adventure” and those with whom it was shared. That’s what I do.

Cheers, Liz. I hope you are well.

Thanks, IB! I wonder if Liz knows Lupe…