Following the 6ft shark incident, being almost trampled at the beach, running laps while not knowing there was a 12ft alligator on the loose, the consistent streak of unlucky events couldn’t possibly have continued. Every year we travelled to America, every year an even bigger event would take place, and every time someone asked, “How was your holiday?”, it was followed with a, “It was great…apart from almost getting bitten by a shark.” No holiday ever came and went without having a near-death experience. And this year ended up no different.
After a couple of weeks going to theme parks and late-night dinners in Anaheim, CA, we set out for Palm Desert. The somewhat small city usually reached temperatures of up to 50°C, so there was nothing out of the ordinary when we arrived and were once again shaken to the core as we stepped out into the vast oven, surrounded by huge mountains. You might think the extremely high temperatures would discourage us from coming here, but we treat it like a break from the busy streets and the wild theme parks, instead laying on sun loungers, and shopping in quiet outlets. The suffocating air, lack of noise, and the burning sensation all over my skin made me feel claustrophobic, filling my head (ironically) with thoughts such as “What if there was a flood, what if this valley turns into a lake,” and so on. The desert seemed like such an isolated place because of how distant it was from the big cities we had previously been staying in. It was almost like a change of country, from USA to the middle of the African desert, which gave the feeling that our next objective would be to find a source of water. But it wasn’t the African desert, and the closest source of water came from our apartment, 10 metres from where we were standing. As we opened the door, we felt the cold air being sucked out of the apartment into the desert, like the doors of a spaceship, and we stepped inside.
After about an hour of unpacking, our desperation to run and jump straight into the pool grew bigger, but we started to feel quite hungry, so we headed out for some delicious fast food. There was not a lot of choice, for obvious reasons, so we decided to get a McDonalds. Everything tasted better in America, more flavour, more deliciousness. Everything had more of it. Donuts? More sugar. Fries? More salt. I found the little box of wonders I held in my hand to be a great representation of where I was at that time, in a small area, filled with heat and the smell of fast food. However, we spotted a cloud of smoke over one of the hills. It was small, but it was still something to be concerned about. So, we started to drive home.
During our quick journey back home, we turned on the radio, which was in the middle of an important radio broadcast; “Citizens of the local area, an extreme wild fire has broken out and is closing in on Route-111 (the direct route into the Desert Valley). Whether evacuation is necessary at this point is unknown, but we will keep you updated!” exclaimed the news reporter.
“That’s the most emotion I have heard from a news reporter,” I laughed to myself, but it also set off a few alarms in our heads. We hurried back to the apartment to explain the unfortunate news to the rest of our family, which they did not take calmly to, and we were bombarded with questions such as, “What if we can’t escape,”, “What if we die in the fire,”, “What if we don’t get out in time.” My dad was the unfortunate target of all these questions, so I took the chance to slip into my room and gobble down my McDonalds. (you can probably tell by now I was not taking this seriously enough, but hey, what’s so bad about a fire that could possibly burn you to death while you try to break free from a desert prison?).
Later, that night, the news had gone quiet about the wildfire, so we all started to settle down and presumed it was a false alarm. I found a pair of my swim shorts on my bed, and I headed out to the pool. It was a short walk away and as I looked up at the mountains, I noticed the cloud of smoke had grown significantly in size. It was now moving over the top of our apartment, so I made a run back and met my mum who was running in my direction. She explained that we had to prepare for an evacuation after an alert was sent out in our area. Before we went to bed, we had to pack all our belongings back into our suitcases in case we had to leave quickly during the night. And after a long day, it wasn’t long before I was fast asleep.
I woke up in the morning, the realisation and panic kicking in almost immediately. I ran through to the living room, and they were sitting eating breakfast peacefully. I yelled “FIRE, WHAT ABOUT THE FIRE?!”, which was followed by a “Stop shouting, it’s fine”. Apparently, the evacuation alert was a false alarm. How cliché. Even I was disappointed at how the ‘show’ ended so quickly. In fact, it didn’t even start! The whole time throughout this situation there was another way out of the Valley, but not knowing this at the time made it that bit scarier.
Looking back on this, I am glad that this didn’t escalate into a full-blown emergency. It would have been horrible to be trapped in the desert with blazing fires, as the tumbleweed would have allowed the fire to spread rapidly. There is, however, one dark side of me that wishes the event could have taken place. It would be exciting, and an even greater story to tell. “My family and I had to speed out of the desert with a huge fire taking over the land behind us.” We do not avoid going back because of what has happened, as we know there is a very slim chance it will happen again. What causes the streak of life-threatening events is beyond us, I guess it’s just bad luck. But who knows, next time it might be a 10ft tall tsunami, or a 9.2 earthquake, or maybe even, by pure luck, a normal holiday!
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