Emerald City*
I was so busy this weekend, I forgot to do the radio check. This is unusual, because I look forward to each Saturday’s radio check eagerly. I’m not sure why, except that most days go by here looking exactly like every other day. We must need some little demarcation of the week going by. Our radio is fat and heavy, with a squat little antenna, very GI Joe. Each week I’m to report to headquarters on the radio..”emerald city, emerald city, this is busty* doing a radio check, over”. Like a third grader, I fantasize about doing a crank call, something about a refrigerator running, or emerald city…. I’m naked. Each time, I stick to the script and wait for the response, “busty, this is emerald city, do you copy?” We’re to believe that in a real emergency, marines will arrive at our door tout suite. The one time we didn’t get through to headquarters I waited until the next day to try again. After no response, I called on the phone to report our failed radio check, thinking that it would be something dumb, like I’d forgotten to turn it on. The marine responded with a dissatisfying “huh?” and “…Hmmm,” then reported that they didn’t seem to be transmitting, just gotten back from vacation, didn’t know anything. Constance got the same huh, hmm response once when she called to report that she had just gotten ripped off. She wanted to ask if she should call the local police. “Huh?... Hmm. We’ll check around and call you back”. She’s still waiting for a response.
*Names have been changed to protect the delicate toile of security.