Blackouts

By now you've doubtless heard about California's energy problems. The Democrats blame deregulation. Republicans say California's staggered liberalization of its rules of power distribution was anything but deregulation. But no matter whom you ask you get the feeling that Something Needs to Be Done.

Today's the first day the rolling blackouts hit and, sorry to report, I haven't been much affected. Yet. A critics' screening of a movie I went to was held up for a few odd minutes but other than that, it's been smooth.

So now I'm sitting here, typing away and listening to the Auteurs (a completely frivolous use of electricity ... and I'm doing this all with the lights on) wondering when things will go dark without warning.

The last time there was a blackout, it was two weeks before Christmas and it didn't roll, choosing instead to park its ass in my Southeast Berkeley neighborhood for seven hours. (Note: Allegedly, this was unrelated to the current mess, but you never can tell who says what he means and means what he says.)

You haven't known disorientation until it's pitch dark at 6 p.m. and you're trying to spot your bus stop. Riders peer out of the window, looking for familiar storefronts, fire hydrants, intersections. It's a team effort.

I stumbled off the bus three blocks past my stop.

The walk home was a piece of post-apocalyptic surrealism (my second such one since I gave up Wisconsin for California two years ago). Once I turned off of the fairly bustling College Avenue and began heading down my street, it was quiet ... and dark. No one was out. They were all apparently inside, huddled around candles, playing card games or telling stories. No one was out and things were to my liking until, out of the corner of my eye, I saw the fenced-in, perfectly white dog, more brilliant than the candles in any window, which scared the hell out of me, then fascinated.

I nodded at my walking companion for 15 feet, patted his head and walked on before the rumble of a truck, whose driver plainly hoped to take advantage of my street's lack of stoplights, snapped me out of my reverie. As the noisy, mini-semi passed, I couldn't help but notice how brilliantly its orange track lights shown in the quiet night. Across the street, a small group of kids from the middle school anxiously awaited parents oblivious to the cancellation of the day's extracurricular activities.

I left my freaked-out housemate behind and went to the movies in a lit-up part of town.

But the day after was what made the blackout. Neighbors who never spoke were swapping blackout stories and asking one another, "Was your power out?" The guys at the coffeeshop got to go home early the night before but would be paid for a whole shift.

Apparently, not everyone in the 'hood had been affected and some folks had come back up earlier. Others, including my term-paper-writing housemate, had been teased with about 10 minutes of power before the whole thing crashed again.

What happens to things like life support when the rolling blackout Wheel of Fortune stops on a district that includes a hospital?

"Sorry, hon. The doctor says we'll have to turn of grandma's respirator. Something about the New Economy and Democrats. Or was it Republicans?"

Of course, we all know there are Mechanisms In Place for that sort of thing, and so far these blackouts have been kind of fun. An excuse to kick back at work and slack off. A justified reason to be late to a meeting. An encouragement to sleep in and not answer the phone.

Bring it on. I've got candles, and, frankly, I could use a nap.

— Eric Wittmershaus (ericw at flakmag dot com)