A Blazing Holy Fire

Watching the Holy Fire grow from the sweat of an excessively hot Southern California Monday into a 4000-acre blaze over the span of about eight hours and then continue to grow to 10,000 acres over the last few days has been a little unnerving. I live smack dab in the center of Rancho Santa Margarita, which has had a front row view of the burning hillside for three days now. My apartment is tucked behind the foothills of those mountains, located roughly seven miles drive from the source of the fire.

It’s been an interesting experience watching the last few days unfold as the fire grows, and it’s strange being this close to the blaze and yet not in any danger. The flames have continued to spread to the east towards Lake Elsinore, leaving those of us to the southwest in awe of the thick, bruise-purple cloud over our heads and the sharp cut of smoke visibly choking the air. In between speeding off in cars with self-important determination to prove life as usual through shitty driving habits, people can’t help but hesitate here and there, pausing to stare at the apocalyptic landscape and take photos with their phones.

I was pissed this morning when I went down to the gym at our apartment to run on the treadmill, only to find that some asshole left the door open and the gym was full of smoke. I decided to pass on my run, but later felt like a pansy when I watched a man cycling down the street in full gear, determined to get his daily exercise in, in spite of any discomfort to his throat and lungs. Hell, I once watched a woman jogging down the street in Hemet while smoking a cigarette at the same time. So I suppose, why not?

The worried text messages from loved ones have been both endearing and also a little stressful. Right now, we are okay where we are, and if that changes we won’t hesitate to evacuate. But we have some amazing firemen who know what they are doing and they are working their asses off to keep us safe. I’m certain that if anything changes, they will begin evacuating the housing tracks to the north and east of us before they evacuate us. I am keeping a close eye on everything.

Panicked text messages because you can see the flames cresting Santiago Peak in the dark from your bedroom window in central Irvine are not really helping. I know you can see it. Most of us here in the OC can see it driving home on the freeway. I trust the professionals to do their job and to give us notice the moment anything changes.

It’s amazing how much the presence of this fire has cast a surreal light on the city around me. People work, shop, and keep on doing normal things in between trying to hide feelings of being unsettled. It’s easy to be indifferent when it’s happening to someone else, but when there’s no glowing screen between you and the disaster, it’s a little bit different.

Nevertheless, Southern Californians will do our best to put on our fiercest faces. We’re used to all the cameras.