(how Cheez-its saved my eyesight)
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Two minutes.
That’s it. Two minutes. The first American coast-to-coast solar eclipse in nearly a century…the most media-hyped event since Bill Clinton didn’t not have sex…and it was over before you could properly poach an egg.
A few seriously senior senior citizens have been waiting for this now for 99 years, and it lasted two minutes. That’s less time than it takes actor/activist Sean Penn to punch somebody in the face for not supporting peace.
The last time this happened (the eclipse, not Sean Penn snappingl) was in 1918, the year World War I ended. Looking back, it was probably a bad idea to name it “World War I,” since that practically begs for a sequel…which we ultimately got.
The 2017 version of the eclipse officially began at 9.06am local time in Madras, Oregon, a dusty little agricultural berg of 7,000 citizens, all named Zeke. Over 100,000 people flocked – which is the perfect word for it – to Madras to participate in the 120-second solar miracle, including flockers from Iran, Guam, South America, and several countries that starred in World War I. Other nationalities spotted in Madras were astrologers, fans of Zamfir (king of the pan flute), sane people, and representatives of the Tin Foil Hat Nation.
Why Madras? Well, according to NASA, the best places to see the total eclipse ran along an imaginary line from Oregon to South Carolina (actually, the tin foil hat people claimed they could see the line). This full-on eclipse experience was known as the “path of totality” or the “three-day sale opportunity.” Marketing departments have an uncanny ability to come up with three-day sale “tie-ins” to leverage any event, happening anywhere at any time. It’s cause-and-effect: event = sales idea. If science discovered a new species of fungus-farming ant, you can be sure there’s a furniture store or car dealership somewhere working on a “three-day fungus sale” campaign.
How did World War I start? Simple cause-and-effect. In 1914, a Serbian terrorist shot an Austro-Hungarian archduke in Bosnia for trying to annex part of the Ottoman Empire, which Hungary was afraid might unite the Slavs in the Balkans, which Russia considered belonged to them, so Russia allied with France and soldiered up, which caused Germany to invade Belgium, which led to Britain siding with Russia, France, and Sean Penn. After Sean Penn punched out a British passenger liner, the Lusitania, the United States had to get involved, of course, which led to President Woodrow Wilson coming up with the silly, ill-fated Justice League of Nations, possibly something he dreamed up during the 1918 eclipse.
Simple cause-and-effect.
Speaking of cause-and-effect, the 2017 eclipse would result in a nationwide porta potty shortage, and I’m quickly moving away from that joke.
As the eclipse neared, the science world (and furniture stores) got ready. Scientists pointed out that 12 million Americans live in the 17-mile-wide path of totality, many of them named Zeke. Eclipse tips were everywhere…some admittedly more reliable than others. In Los Angeles, Sean Penn’s hometown, an LA Times headline promised “Clear skies in Los Angeles for eclipse viewing.”
Right. Los Angeles hasn’t seen clear skies since Woodrow Wilson created the Justice League.
And then the eclipse began to move east. The citizens of Colorado weren’t in the path of totality, but they were stoned enough to pretend they saw it anyway. Around 11am local time, the eclipse passed over Beatrice, Nebraska, which is pronounced beATriss, because there’s not much else to do in Nebraska.
As the sun proceeded down the Path of T, news crews’ interviews filled the airwaves, leading the Guinness Book to announce a new world record for “people simultaneously saying ‘awesome’.”
At 12.54pm local time, the eclipse entered Illinois, but the experience was marred when seven people in Chicago gut-shot the sun. Though it was now limping a little, the sun proceeded towards Carbondale, Illinois, where the totality was supposed to last longer than anywhere else in America, peaking at 2 minutes, 43 seconds. This, of course, attracted tens of thousands of Zamfir fans and other dedicated eclipse-iacs. To give you an idea, one woman who was interviewed offered this optimism:
“Hopefully it won’t be super elbow to elbow,” she said.
But the swarms of news media interviewers were hardly on the short path to a Pulitzer, either:
FoxNews Hair Helmet: Where you guys coming from?
Woman who grinned so much she might have lockjaw: We live here in Carbondale.
Helmet: How long did it take you guys to drive?
Lockjaw: We live here in Carbondale.
Helmet: Give me one word to describe the eclipse.
Lockjaw: Awesome.
Soon after, the eclipse crossed the Mississippi River, making it partially visible to the US Congress, who joyfully responded by taxing darkness, and then taking a long weekend.
Here at my home in South Carolina, I prepared for the eclipse by making a “shadow box” out of a box of Cheez-its, because I haven’t eaten cereal since World War I, Part II. And then, around 2.30p Eastern, I stood on my deck for ten minutes, staring into a Cheez-its box. (and people wonder why I’m still single…)
But it was worth it; after all, scientists predict that 600 million years from now, there won’t be any more solar eclipses. It probably won’t matter, though, because we’ll all be caught up in World War MCCCVI, starring Bruce Willis as Sean Penn. (soundtrack by Keith Richards)
I’m told that there are actually eclipse-chasers: people who follow eclipses, all year long, all over the globe. Interesting hobby, eh? Fly thousands of miles, look up for two minutes, fly, look up, fly, look up, try to find a porta potty, fly, look up, and so on. That’s okay…some people also thought it was a good idea to give Zamfir a pan flute.
It takes all kinds.
But take heart, Tin Foil Hat Nation. It’s only seven years till the next American eclipse!
Until them, feel free to drive down to South Carolina and help me finish these Cheez-its.