Rant

I'm scared.

When it comes to earthquakes, I'm usually very calm. Hell, during the March 11th quake, I stopped for a moment to contemplate the chaos around me before going online for details about it. I felt only a little excitement, not much else.

Now my hands are quivering slightly from the spike of adrenaline caused by the latest aftershock, this time a 6.0 aftershock in Shizuoka. I've spent the past two days tensed for the moment when my phone's earthquake alarm would go off, with a message reading that Tokyo was being hit; with every tiny tremor my heart speeds up till it's thumping in my ears.

This isn't fair. It isn't fair that my coworker still hasn't heard from her dad, that her whole hometown was wiped out, that she spends every day at work appearing calm and in control, only betrayed by the redness around her bloodshot eyes from when she disappears to fruitlessly call her dad's cellphone. It isn't fair that crowds gather around TVs in darkened stations and supermarkets, waiting to hear that the wind has shifted and they're all going to be in danger of radiation poisoning. It isn't fair that I can't visit my fucking family because the right trains aren't moving because of the blackouts.

It isn't fair that homes, lives, and livelihoods have been lost. Or that it will take years, possibly decades for Japan to recover from this. That we might sink into another economic depression, right when we were pulling out of the last one, when we thought everything was going to be okay.

The hotel is still going strong. After the earthquake hit, the kitchens were a mess. Our kitchen is two floors underground, so we made it through without anything falling down or breaking. The worst is that Le Ciel, our French restaurant, is on the 68th floor, and our casual French restaurant Sirius is on the 70th. Every member of the staff working on those floors told me the same thing: they thought they were going to die. The 20 million yen chandelier crashed to the floor in Le Ciel, half the boiling oil in Sirius' kitchen's deep fryers spilled out. Everything in the refrigerators spilled, cabinets full of dishes and silverware fell, narrowly missing diners and waiting staff. The elevators stopped for a full day, forcing everyone to walk down endless flights of stairs.

The worst was that the gas had been turned off, and we still had 1000 guest hungry and panicked, plus walk-ins full of food prepared for the many banquet parties that were supposed to be held that day. Chef Takahashi took immediate control: first we brought all the party food down to the kitchen, separated the food that could be converted into sandwich fillings, and sent that up to the Cafe on the 1st floor. Then about 20 of us made enough pasta for 800 people using the giant steam-operated "kettles" and convection ovens in the Hot Prep kitchens, while the other 20 or so made curry. These were also taken up the stairs to the Cafe.

Those who could walk home were urged to leave after this was finished. The trains weren't moving, and the taxis had been snapped up hours before by the time I and two coworkers ventured outside. Eventually we, along with at least 100 others, had to sleep over at the hotel. All convenience stores were full of people staring despondently at bare shelves, so we retired to our kitchen where we prepared dinner for ourselves. (One good thing about my line of work - there will always be free food in an emergency!) We retired to the chef's office, where we, Chef T., and Senior Chef K watched TV all night and tried our best to sleep whilst sitting upright. (Except Senior Chef K: he found some cardboard and had a peaceful night's rest, snoring his way through every earthquake alarm.)

It could definitely have been worse. I'm thankful that I'm close to my coworkers, otherwise it could have been an even more uncomfortable night, even though listening to my boss talk in his sleep WAS a little traumatizing.

So, now that the distraction of this blog post is over, I'm back to shivering in my seat. Think I'll go down to the lobby and watch the news...