The Year So Far

I started the year worried about H5N1 (bird flu). It's not transmitting human to human yet, as far as we know, but it was sounding like it could get there soon. On the advice of a prepper subreddit, I started slowly building out my stocks of non-perishables and bought hypochlorous acid, hand sanitizer, and some extra toilet paper. My husband and I started to think about what we wished we'd had on hand in March 2020 when things shut down for COVID, and thought up some new things, based on the fact that bird flu seems to be transmitted via airborne droplets and fomites. Would there even be a shut down this time? Would it be self-imposed? Either way we bought shoe covers(??) and stocked up on pantry staples. We already had a large quantity of N95 masks, thanks to our still trying to avoid COVID, and we were planning to distribute them preemptively to friends in January in case bird flu was as around the corner as it seemed.

Monday, January 6, was my first day back at work after the holidays. My coworker friend was out with COVID. The news broke of the first fatal case of H5N1 in the U.S. (don't worry about it, though – he was old!). I'm not positive if bird flu came up in our team meeting that day or in our last one before the break, but bringing it up does sound like me. Another coworker asked me about the virus in China she's heard about, wanting to know if I'm worried about that. I don't think the coming winds or fire risk came up at all. I must have been slightly aware because I can vaguely remember deciding against saying something like "if we don't all get blown away!" in a work email. I become a different person in a work email.

On Tuesdays I usually work from home. I didn't go on my morning walk that day because it was already pretty windy out. My husband filled up the car with gas because we've been trying to keep it at least half full at all times, but that was just us being cautious as usual, not actually worried. A palm tree branch fell on the car's windshield, so we turned it around to be facing away from the tree, nose out – also good advice for anyone needing to leave in a hurry. Very cautious-core.

By the afternoon, things were horrific in the Palisades. But that's a problem on the west side, way across town from us, and L.A. is massive. We decided to keep our phones fully charged just in case. Caution-pilled stuff for sure, but still not worried.

By the evening, a new fire had started, this one to the east of us. I started to think about what's in our go-bag, which I'd filled mostly thinking about earthquakes. It was full of technically expired snacks (mostly Costco protein bars that I have now sampled, not under duress, and found disgusting) and camping gear, along with our marriage license and passports. I'd been meaning to track down our car titles so I finally did that and put them in there too. I tried to watch an episode of a friend's new Dropout show but could not peel my eyes from my phone, which is actually sort of my whole deal all the time.

Shortly after that post, we lost power and started to think about the logistics of actually evacuating – just in case. What would we need? If we leave, are we making it to a hotel? Are the hotels all full because of the people who have already had to evacuate before us? Are we sleeping in the car? (I packed several pairs of wool socks, thinking that we might.) We are both transplants and don't have family in California, so we figured we might need to drive pretty far out in case nearby hotels weren't an option – to Palm Springs? (been there like once) to Vegas? (never been) – but didn't land on anything concrete. I filled up the bathtub with water because I have in my head that that's what you do in an emergency, and we packed up our suitcases by flashlight and battery powered Christmas string lights. In the moment I remember thinking that was a fun detail I should definitely include when I inevitably write about this. And here it is, just as fun as imagined. A little peek into my sick process.

I "went to bed" glued to the Watch Duty app. I watched as this new Eaton fire crept toward our apartment. I kept getting pings of new evacuation zones, seemingly all heading in our direction. The winds were the loudest I'd ever heard them. Between the updates on the fire and the noise from outside, I was not sleeping at all. I finally did for a few hours after reluctantly deciding to sacrifice some of my phone battery on a white noise app.

I woke up around 6am and said to my husband I think we might need to go. This is what we were seeing on Watch Duty:

And this is what we were seeing outside our window:

And then we remembered our friend who's in town, with no car, and staying at a hotel five minutes away. People evacuating from the Palisades fire had even landed at his hotel, and he had gone to bed the night before feeling safe and totally unaware of this new one. When we got what felt like the inevitable evacuation warning minutes after the above photo was taken, we called him, and he was down to leave with us.

This warning never progressed to an order, nor did it ever show up on the official evacuation maps, so I now think it was sent in error. But at the time, as our apartment started to reek of smoke, we donned our masks, and it seemed like it was time to fucking go. We loaded up our car, dropped N95s at the doors of every unit in our building, and picked up our friend.

We left town for two days and felt bad and weird, following the news from afar. I shattered when I learned about the 66 year old Black man who died with a garden hose in hand, trying to save his Altadena home. Again when I learned a friend had lost her house. Again when some mutual aid comrades who hadn't evacuated drove around to check on our unhoused neighbors and bring them masks and food. Again and again and right now.

Driving back into town, you would have never known anything had happened. The skies were clear. Our apartment was unscathed. Our area wasn't covered in ash somehow. We were still worried that we might have to leave again – more winds were forecast for the following week – but we didn't. Still, I don't feel settled.

The weekend after we came back was a weird one. It felt like everyone was desperate to help with fire relief. Some mutual aid groups across the city had immediately mobilized to get N95s on everyone's faces as the smoke and toxic air was inescapable. Other groups jumped into action collecting food and supplies. What am I, a reporter or something? Ugh.

My mutual aid group met up for our regular Saturday distro and were surprised to have dozens of new people showing up to help out; we think we were added to a public-facing spreadsheet of groups that Needed! Your! Help! And Stuff! Now! Friends and strangers dropped off tons of food and clothing, and many stuck around to be put to work. There are usually 4-6 of us any given weekend, and we don't do fire-relief-specific work, which felt weird, as I think most of the people showing up really wanted to help people whose houses burned down. We tried to communicate that btw we actually tend to work with regular, pre-existing unhoused people, if that's okay. Everyone was very nice and enthusiastic, and we did our best as a small group, overwhelmed by this influx of people. I have no idea how any of these newcomers felt about regular, pre-existing unhoused people, but I do know that none of them showed up at our distro the following Saturday.

We'll see about next week. People might be tired. I know I am. Marathon not a sprint, yadda yadda.

This is running long, maybe because of all the photos I included. I'll write more soon, as I'm not sure this post has solved everything quite yet.

I'll just end by recommending that everyone I know wear a high quality mask right now – DM me if you need some – whether that's to protect yourself from the currently probably toxic air of Los Angeles, from COVID, or from bird flu. You know your girl's still worried about bird flu.