Survivor: Harris Apartments 2002

As I type this, my block in Hollywood just recovered from a 30-minute power outage. It's funny to see how people react. For a second, there's silence, and then you hear moans and gripes in unison. I don't blame them; we pay so much for electricity, the least the DWP can do is keep it running at all hours of the day.

During my sophomore year of college, I spent a good month without electricity or heat in my on-campus apartment. My friends and I joke about it being my Survivor: Harris Apartments period, but in the moment, it was both thrilling and scary.

I'm still not exactly sure why complex was evacuated. Out of nowhere, about 30 of us got notice that there was an "electrical emergency" with the building, and we had to reside in a hotel about four miles away. My university covered the hotel expenses, but there were a few minor problems. For one, I didn't have a car then, and two, the shuttle to transport students to and from the hotel only ran from 7am to 7pm. The kicker: I was a film student; I woke up at 7pm.

I decided to stay in Harris Apartments. Even though there was no power or heat, there was running water, so I could take cold showers at the very least. Yes, cold showers in low 50-degree temperatures with no heat was pretty risky, but I didn't have any convenient alternatives.

My friends were worried for sure. A few of them offered flashlights, and one girl gave me some tap lights to line the my room with. I mastered the art of bouncing light off the white walls (several cinematographers have been impressed with my skills), and despite a few very cold nights, I guess I had fun.

There are far more unnerving predicaments to be in when the power goes out, one of them being in an elevator by yourself. I've been stuck at least five times in multiple blackouts; it isn't pretty, especially if you are claustrophobic. As a writer, it gives you something to write about for sure (as you can see here), but otherwise, it is a frustrating waste of time. Some think being stuck with another person would be less frustrating, but... well, when that other person is panicky and in dire need of a toilet, being alone really isn't so bad. If nothing else, you can snooze comfortably until the firefighters arrive. (In my experience, it has always taken longer for the electricity to turn back on than it did for the firefighters to spring me out.)

During the epic Harris Apartments blackout, I had trouble sleeping at first. It's strange to be in a room full of electrical devices knowing that you cannot use any of them. It's like starving in a room full of canned goods without a can opener. There is no hum of electricity in the air. There are no blinking lights emanating from your clock, cable box or router. There is no fan noise in the background because there is no juice to power it. Nothing but absolute silence.

As depicted in countless horror films, such silence can be dangerous. The smoke detectors were not powered, and since the whole complex was deserted, if anything happened to me, nobody would find out until it was too late. At the very least, I had a cell phone for emergencies, and if it ever got too iffy for me, I could camp out in the film school with the hairy, smelly editors.

From November to mid-December of 2002, I roughed it out. I remember one morning, somebody entered my apartment at about 7 in the morning. I'm not a deep sleeper, so the second I heard the front door open, I was ready to either whoop ass or scream like a girl. I heard talking amongst the intruders, and from what they said, I assumed they were probably workers. They had no idea I was inside.

As the two guys walked near my bed, I sat up like how a vampire would from a casket, and both of them jumped and yelped. A good two minutes of awkward laughter followed. They apologized for barging in, but I told them to go about their business. One of them commended me on sticking it out without electricity, but the other claimed it was so dangerous, even he wouldn't try it. I reassured them that if I had a car, I'd be at the hotel for sure. Oh well.

My favorite memory from that time had little to do with the blackout itself. I was in a philosophy class with the girl who gave me the tap lights, and for the final exam, she asked to study with me. We couldn't work at her place because her roommate was sick, and of course, my place was out of the question. So we met up in the back of the film school where I often lounged about.

The study session started off with Socrates and Aquinas, but it eventually veered into a discussion about our own beliefs in life and love, and everything in between. It was a very insightful, intimate moment for both of us, and to this day, I look back on that simple study session as one of the highlights of my college life. I would have never guessed such an illuminating experience would occur in the midst of my blackout period. Needless to say, she and I did very well on the final exam.

By habit, I often finished all my term papers and final projects during the Thanksgiving break. That way, I could just sit back and relax while everyone else struggled to survive finals week. I will never forget Thanksgiving 2002. Picture me sitting on my bed, eating two cans of Chef Boyardee Spaghetti and Meatballs while working on a term paper lit only by a Maglite flashlight.

I paid $15,000 for that semester of private college education. I felt like a Flintstone.

When I returned for the spring semester, the Harris Apartments were up and running again. The housing department gave each of us 50 measly bucks for our trouble. The money didn't even cover the food my roommate lost in our fridge. He was a pudgy guy, and he had frozen sausages imported from Europe. All gone.

I have been particularly grateful for electricity since. I don't know how people survived without electricity centuries ago, but it's good knowing I can survive somewhat when it all shuts down.

Now where are my damn tap lights?