I never expected that I would turn into a zombie two days before the much-ballyhooed Great American Eclipse of 2017.
Having a self-induced, pre-eclipse hangover was an all together different matter.
I had been preparing for the celestial celebration for months:
planning optimal viewing locations,
determining travel routes,
and, of course,
obtaining the necessary specialized optical equipment, namely,
the $2.00 eclipse viewing glasses.
Was everything about this event connected to 2’s… as one friend (yes you Steve) put it… I was overthinking this stuff way 2 much?
In the meantime, other buddy Bob mapped our route and viewing spot to be very close to the center of the 70-mile wide path of totality, which was totally cool, as in literally totally cool when the sun disappeard for two-minutes.
We had a great spot in a broad, grass-covered open area, with more cows than people nearby.
I even spent…yes, you guessed it…a whopping 2 bucks on a fantastic app that would confirm our location and event times, and provide a, only slightly, nagging voice,
“Put glasses on…put glasses on…
…you idiot, unless you are the president…
……..PUT THE GLASSES ON NOW!”
Other than for Neil deGrasse Tyson, the astrophysics of this event was anything but simple. There were countless websites that explained the details, some claimed to tell everything you needed to know.
I certainly had questions. Many questions.
First off, I did not know where best to place my viewing chair; face west? face east? So, after walking all over the hillside schlepping my chair, I finally decided to be next to the pickup with the table of ale and ice chest, and just look up.
I wondered, why was there no moon the night before, but now a full moon was covering the sun?
And, if the eclipse crosses the country at about 2,000 miles per hour, why does it take approximately 2 hours, from “first contact” to “fourth contact” to get by us?
Moreover, once the eclipse was over, where did the moon go until later that night?
The only answer I seem to remember is that the moon would completely blanket the sun, leaving only the corona light remaining to be seen.
Hmmm. I may have misunderstood.
I will say, that even with just the light of the corona remaining, it really does not get as dark as night.
More like dark as dusk, which don’t get me wrong, was pretty cool…just not dark, dark.
At least we were packing a good supply of refreshing adult beverages, because when the sun was not covered for those two minutes, it was plenty warm.
The problem was, while we were wearing those funky 2-buck, pitch black, glasses, we couldn’t find our beers, almost knocking them off the table.
Thankfully, once the moon went off to who-knows-where, I could safely sit with my beloved Bombay Sapphire in hand, sans black-out shades, and toast our bearing witness to an amazing sight.
Apparently, Steve and Bob had more sober mind numbing activities to return to.
“Speaking of sober, or lack thereof, the hangover I mentioned above was post my birthday dinner the night before my zombie-like, 2,000-mile drive across four states (but, only completely through…yes… 2 of them).
There were some magazine reports of other types of eclipse hangovers, such as sharing the roads to get home with thousands, and thousands of people with the same idea.
To ease my drive home, my buddies strongly suggested I stop on my way at the Rock House in Jordan Valley, Oregon, for an espresso milkshake. Not to question their local knowledge, I did grab that drink as my breakfast beverage for my long haul home.
No more hangover to suffer, just a bit of a brain freeze.
Hi Frank,
Barely a peep of eclipse in NYC, just a shadow. Although it was supposed to be that way I reckon in the city.
I feel only a few places offered a true eclipse around the USA. Some legit eclipses there but other than that, it was a fairly non newsworthy event.
Good deal on the espresso shake though. Brain breeze beats hangover every time.
Thanks for sharing.
Ryan