I was in high school the last time I remember the world coming to an end. Grade nine, to be exact. It was September, 1991.
It was a big deal.
For weeks before the big event, TV and radio personalities talked about little else. (Disclaimer: I was 14. I may have ignored the other news stories.)
Finally, the big day came.
But before it came End of the World Eve.
As my friends and I were leaving school, we gathered together to talk about what we expected to happen on the morrow. Would there be fire? Flood? Nuclear weapons? Zombies? Nobody knew. But one thing was for sure.
Why bother doing homework when the world’s only going to end anyway?
So, being rather unfamiliar with the real meaning of hedging our bets, we all vowed to “hedge our bets” and not do any homework.
The world was coming to an end. What did it matter if we completed twenty polynomial equations and wrote a 500 word essay on some book we’d never actually bothered to read?
I have sad news.
The world didn’t come to end that September day in 1991.
Even worse, we all got lunch detentions for not completing our English homework.
Even worse, two of our number did their homework anyway.
I tell you this story so you can understand why I treated news of today’s coming Apocalypse with some small measure of trepidation. I’d been there before. I’d put my faith in the world ending, and been sorely disappointed (and punished). I wasn’t ready to open myself and risk having my heart broken again so soon. It’s only been twenty-one years.
(Gods, I’m old.)
And as the clock ticks over from December 21st to December 22nd, I leave you with this message: