Once Upon A Time in Lona Vista

“My homesick is kind of cured” my friend, Mr. OCD, told me when we were sitting in the dark at the kitchen. Two candles accompanied us on that chilly, windy Sunday night.

“What makes you say so?” I asked while sipping a cup of cold coffee.

“Yeah, with this black out. It gives me the sense that I’m back at home, not in the US,” he smiled innocently – actually it was ghastly with the light flaring from the candle. (if you watch Indonesian horror movies a lot, you’ll know what I mean)

I smiled back, signaling an agreement.

Wait a minute… Black out in the US? How could that be possible? You might think that only in Indonesia you get a frequent black out.

Need more explanation? Let’s go back to few hours earlier.

11. 00 a.m.

I woke up late. Who doesn’t want to wake up late on Sundays? Raise your hand!

You wake up late, too? Good. Yeah. I think I deserve a long sleep after the shocking first week of college life. You know, after living leisurely for a quite a while, readings and tons of assignments (it's a hyperbole) had sucked up all my energy (another hyperbole. So, pretend you don’t really read that). From outside my bedroom, I could hear the buzz from a machine. I walked out to the kitchen with the intention of having a glass of water. Oh, I wished I could sleep a little longer.

As soon as I stepped into the kitchen, my roommate, Mr. Batak rushed into the room. He looked half panic, half excited.

“Hey, you know what has just happened?” he asked. I could not recognize if he were smiling.

“No…” my mouth stayed in “o” form for a while. How could I know? I had just awaken!

“Come here,” he was now at the window of the kitchen, pulling up the blind.

“Do you see a police car down there?” he pointed to the north and I saw the blinking red-and-blue light.

I nodded.

“Do you see that pole?” he moved his index finger to the right.

I followed his hand and saw the fallen pole and some wires on the ground.

“That pole fell down and, congratulation, we have no power at the apartment,” he moved his head left to right (like an Indian), his favourite gesture.

“What?” suddenly I was awake, “we can’t cook? “

“Don’t be saaaad..” his favourite answer

“No hot shower?”

“Don’t be saaaaad…”

12.00 p.m.

After a quick cold shower, I walked outside to find out what really happened. Now I could see several workers were using a tool to pull the wire from the pole (the one that was still standing). The wind still blew hard. FYI, yesterday night was very, very windy. On the stair level (this is the level between two slanting stairs, like this -->__/… Oh never mind that, I need to check my dictionary, anyway) stood the next door guy from Vietnam, Nguyen (this, of course, is not his real name. I just want to make it sounds Vietnamese)

“Hi” I greeted him. It’s kind of a culture here in Everett to greet every people you meet.

“Oh, hi,” he smiled at me.

“How you doing?” (I know, it’s grammatically wrong)

“Oh, I almost died today,” he smiled bitterly.

“How come?”

“Yeah… you see that circular thing on the pole?” he pointed another pole on the next side of the street.

“Yes. What’s wrong with that?”

“Whew, I was standing at this side, the one near to our complex, to smoke a cigarette when I heard an explosion. That circular thing exploded right in front of me.”

“Gosh… what did you do then?” –stupid question

“I ran. Of course.”

“Whew... lucky you, didn’t get hit or injured”

“Yes,” he seemed reluctant to remember that horrible moment and changed the subject, “they react very quickly.”

“You mean the workers?” another stupid question.

“In my country, it will take 3-4 hours before the people come and fix the thing.”

“I see. How long did it take for them to come and fix this pole?”

“Ten minutes, fifteen minutes.”

Yeah, it was fast. I remembered when a storm hit Medan several years ago and brought down a big tree and a billboard. The tree and the billboard was left on the street for almost half a day, causing a road blocking.

9.00 p.m.

Ting-tong.

Somebody rang the bell. I opened the door. A man in his forties stood there, he wore a stabilo-green vest and a yellow helmet.

“Good evening, we are going to shut the power off for a while.”

“Oh, okay.”

The power was back since 1 p.m., actually.

“Who’s that?” Mr. Batak’s face showed up behind his laptop screen.

“The man who works on the electric pole. He said they will cut the power off in 15 minutes.”

“Whaaattt?? I need to save my work now. I haven’t finished it yet….” Panic, he sank his head into the laptop again.

“Don’t be saaadd...,” I imitated him

My phone rang. Oh, Mr. OCD.

“May I help you, Sir?” my favourite greeting on the phone.

“Yes. I need your help badly.”

“What can I do for you, Sir?”

“Can you please go upstairs? My roommate is out and they are going to cut the power off in 15 minutes.”

“Oh, okay.”

I walked out, stepped on the stairs and, da-raaa, I was in front of his room. Don’t be surprise. My room is exactly under his room.

“Why do you smile?” he asked as I was sitting by the dining table

“I know why you call.”

“He he he …” he grinned innocently.

He is a man, older than I (I hope he doesn’t read this part), but he is afraid of dark and doesn’t like to be left alone. He is a hen-hearted (I’m not sure this will be the best word to use).

On the table, I saw two candles and a small box of matches. Ready to be used.

And here the story started (or ended)

The power was off.

We lit the candles.

And brought back our little memory of home, curing our homesick