Our Internet Apocylpse

So, this was quite a weekend. First Pam and I, along with 40 other couples, took part in a marriage class at my church called The Book on Love. We were one of the longest tenured couples there, but it’s never too late to learn how to get better at something. Lots of good information, not all of it new, but all of it beneficial.

Then we wake up Sunday morning only to discover that our entire neighborhood has been cast back into the dark ages—there is no cable or internet. This frightening condition was first discovered when I stumbled into the kitchen and mumbled the usual phrase to Alexa—“good morning”. This is her cue to turn on a preselected group of lights downstairs necessary to the efficient discharge of my morning responsibilities. Instead of her creepy/cheery response of “OK!!” I hear something that sounded like it was delivered with a bit of attitude, “I’m sorry, I am having trouble understanding your request.”

I tried two more times to get through to her alleged artificial intelligence and two more times I get this “having trouble” line. But without coffee I was incapable of a proper retort. After my chores were completed I took my place on the sofa and opened my laptop whereupon it dawned on me what Alexa’s issue was. No internet. Pam promptly reset the router and we waited for our AI-powered house to come to life. Soon we discovered the awful news that there would be no coming to life this day. No, there was a “problem.” Verizon sent out the first alert soon after informing us that they were working hard to resolve the “issue” and hoped to have it resolved by Wednesday the 8th. 

As this email crawled its way through each home in Wythe Trace, we could hear the primal screams building from each cul-de-sac like the wave at a football game. Parents were frantically trying to figure how they could possibly survive the day without television, YouTube or Instagram. Children were renting their garments over the prospect of having to play outside. Remote working husbands and wives fighting over which would get to work from Panera. When Pam and I got back from church we saw our next door neighbor, Jamie, pulling out of her driveway. I approached her car and in solidarity said, “How are you guys holding up? Going through withdrawals yet?” She then looked at me with a poorly disguised smirk and said, “Oh?? Our internet is working just fine. We have Comcast.”

It is not a happy moment when one discovers that one is on the wrong side of a haves and have’s not dichotomy. Suddenly, our neighborhood had been remade into Verizon people and Comcast people. Even though there were far more of us, the Comcast group had taken on an edgy superiority—“By all means, you can tap in to our network. Its running just fine. I’m sure Verizon will fix everything…eventually…bruhahahahaha!!!” Typical Comcasters.

Fortunately, by 8:00 last night the nightmare was over and peace and equality was restored. 

But as I read through the email exchange between neighbors this morning I see all the expected back and forth about what might have been the reason for the outage. An accidental severing of a line, a squirrel chewed through a cable box-where is Dunnevant when you need him?? But am I the only one who suspects the real culprit? Wythe Trace loses the internet at the exact same time as that Chinese balloon is floating overhead!! Come on people. Wake up!!