“The preparations are what they are. We’re here. The storm is coming, We are as best prepared as we can be as the eye of the storm approaches.” -Russel Honore.

The tide is in—the sun beams its warmth upon me, despite the eerie silence in the air. The sun is glistening on the bay: this is what one might call a ’kodak-moment.’

I am at the blue-chip dock, standing on the boardwalk at PokéHill, wearing my black spandex shorts, purple t-shirt, and backless sandals with black ankle socks. My arms and legs are dark from tan, my makeup completed like a fairy princess-always, purple sparkles streaming from my eyes and all.

Unique.

It is imperative to keep my makeup on point while it is mandatory to wear a mouth and nose covering in public buildings. My matching purple bandana tied around my neck; easily accessible should I decide to stop at McAndy’s on my way home.

I am my own design.

With a high of 92 today, my clothes are damp from sweat.  Excessively hot for this area, but I love it: This is more like the summers I grew up with in College Place, Washington.  I could use a slight cool down, though.

It is extraordinarily calm out here, too calm. The seagulls are not even swarming around me to remind me that I am on their dock.

There is no wind. My silver hair lays perfectly straight to the middle of my back. It feels like time has stopped for a moment.

“The calm before the storm?” I ask myself.

I look around me; there are a few cars parked here and there.

A red, four-door Camry is the closest vehicle.  At the only picnic table at PokéHill sits a family, most likely tourists, having what I presume to be dinner, as it is 1700 hours—looks like KFC.

A tweekzombie is pilfering through the garbage can by the bathrooms while his girlfriend stands by picking her face; he appears to have made quite a find in that dumpster.

An elderly couple is holding hands as they slowly make their way toward the boat ramp.

There is a crisp, freshness to the air. I breathe it in deeply and smile.

I just got Rayquaza in a 5-star remote raid, from Eugene Oregon. I am elated.

“Freaking awesome! I have got to tell Ludis about this!”

I glimpse a profusion of birds approaching from the corner of my eye.

“Yea, there must be a storm coming.” I think out loud.

The sunlight reflects off the jewels on my purple-tipped, one-inch nails as I quickly take a screenshot of my latest triumph and send it to Ludis.

“He prolly won’t even care; the whole family quit playing except myself.”

Lera started playing at the behest of Karek and Ludis, not too long before I did.  Seeing them have so much fun together made me want to join in; after being against the whole game since it came out.

Well, they quit playing–boredom perhaps? Because they did not want to play Pokémon GO with their mother? I may never know. I got Katja to download it recently, but she never plays either.

Regardless, I am trying to get to level 40 to request a PokéGym by my house. At present, I am on level 35. I started playing three months ago.

I hear what sounds like wild laughing from seagulls, the high-pitched sound of caws from the crows, and a mixture of many other birds singing their alarm at the impending storm.

What must be hundreds of birds are now flying all over, highly strung.

The thought crosses my mind that we are about to have an earthquake.

Everyone here is utterly incognizant of the behavioral change in the birds. Typical. Most people are oblivious to everything around them.

Look at Walmart—you can walk through there, and people are standing around having family get-togethers in the middle of the isles. Like hello, it is a shopping place, not a state park.

“I wish they would resume playing; it is far less fun to play by myself.” My mind back to Pokémon.

It sure is sunny and bright for a storm, not a cloud in sight.

“Maybe Ludis will play again once there is a gym next door.”

I glance at the bay once more as I turn around to go home; the water is rapidly receding.

Oh shit, it is a tsunami!

To Be Continued…

Pokémon GO is owned and copyrighted by The Pokémon Company International.