Every Friday at 11am sharp the County tests out the Disaster Warning Sirens near World Headquarters here in Indianapolis. You know–the painfully loud sirens that will theoretically warn you moments in advance of the coming tornado (if the green sky and twilight at noon didn’t clue you in) so that you might have time to bend over and kiss your butt good-bye.
Since my desk is conveniently located just one block from the siren, and we rely on the good graces of mother nature to cool the office in Indiana summer, not much gets done during this two minute “disaster drill” every Friday morning because the noise-level is… distracting. At best.
Despite enduring this diligent preparation, week-in and week-out for 12 of the last 15 years (that I’ve lived in Indiana) I have yet to experience one actual natural disaster. My eyes have not as yet drunk in the sight of a big fat F-5 tornado, for example, coming to get its “$5 Footlong” before smashing the Subway sandwich shoppe across the street to rubble–possibly in protest of its failure to honor the traditional “ducks eat free!” policy.