Tiny Texas Town Withers
In the Grip of Y2K Nightmare
Sandy, Texas still without power or food in the new millenium!

“How long?” he asked himself impatiently. It seemed like hours since the passing tourist had stopped and offered to help. His mind wandered back to the same old questions. “Why me? Why just my town?” He pushed back his chair and began to pace. It was no use. He had asked those questions a thousand times. He knew there were no answers.

Sandy, Texas, Mayor, Police Chief and Dog Catcher for the town of Sandy, Texas, was not a happy man. His municipality was without power, without fuel and without heat. He was damn near out of food! Things were getting desperate!

He thought back to when it all began...

Sandy thought he was prepared for Y2K. He had appointed a special commission for Y2K matters and chaired it himself to make sure things got done.

He bought an old generator from a used car dealer in Johnson City and filled the store’s tank with gas. He stocked up on dried beans and canned hominy, bought extra candles and wired a coat hangar to the antenna of his AM radio to extend its reception.

He had even bought one of those new portable phones so if the lines went out, he could still call his sister cities of Austin and San Antonio.

All for nothing!

His teeth began to grind as he thought back to that black night, the eve of the new millennium, and the beginning of the end for Sandy, Texas...the one man town.

It happened just like those Y2K survivalists said it would. That night, he stayed up listening to his AM radio, following midnight around the world. As time zone after time zone passed into the new millennium, be began to relax. By the time the fireworks went off on the Eiffel Tower, and there were absolutely NO reports of Y2K problems, he breathed a sign of relief. He told the emergency committee (himself) to stand down.

Things had been kind of quiet in Sandy, Texas since his wife, Imogene, had left and taken her son Bubba. There was nothing much to do...no Bubba to play checkers with...no Imogene clicking her knitting needles by the wood stove. He went to bed.

What a greenhorn fool he had been...so arrogant...so cocksure... so wrong! The next morning he awoke to the apocalypse.

The first thing he noticed was that something white was leaking out the bottom of his ice box. He walked over, opened the door and discovered that his Blue Bell Homemade Vanilla had turned into slurry and dripped all over the remaining contents of his ice box. That was just the beginning.

At first he had been too irritated to put it all together. Cursing, he began to scoop his eggs and collards into the trash, grumbling about the high price of groceries and the unreliable power company.

Then, suddenly, he felt a sudden rush of panic. He jumped to his feet and ran over to the light switch. He flipped it on but nothing happened! He ran outside in his boxers and undershirt, heading straight for the well. He popped open the hasp on the well house door, peered into the dim light and froze in his tracks. The well was dead. The Y2K apocalypse had come!

He was in a lot of trouble.

But, Sandy had not risen to public office by being weak willed. He realized it was his destiny to set an example for the citizens of Sandy, Texas. Spineless leadership would destabilize his government, undermine the public moral. Sure, maybe he was the only actual human citizen of Sandy, Texas, but there was still his dog Rufus to worry about. He had to be strong.

Over the next two days, as Inspector General, Sandy took an inventory of his emergency supplies and began a rationing program to assure that everyone was treated fairly. He declared a state of emergency and appointed a special committee (himself) to streamline his community’s (him) response to the crisis (his). He appointed a military governor (Sandy) and gave him (Mr. Texas) special powers to enforce the rationing. (He quit selling gas to tourists.)

The new Inspector General (guess who) and the military governor agreed (of course) that, though things were tight, the Town of Sandy could hold out for at least two or three months without risking food riots or mass hysteria. In those early days, despite the difficulties, spirits were high in Sandy, Texas. The citizens (just Sandy) all pulled together, and in a spirit of mutual sacrifice, did their best with what they had.

Sandy was inspired by the selflessness of the little people (Rufus) and gave rousing speeches every couple of days to keep their (Rufus) spirits up.

Within a week however, it became clear that the horrifying Y2K difficulties that beset Sandy, Texas were not universal. In fact, as Sandy got the emergency measures in place and had more time for leisure, he discovered by listening to his AM radio that he was practically the only community in the world having Y2K problems!

It made no sense. Why just him? His power was out. His phone wouldn’t work. He was fast using up his sparse supply of fuel on that gas guzzlin', chewin’ gum and bailin’ wire generator, (damn that crooked car salesman) just so he could keep the lights on and pump a little water out of the well for his bath. If he had to live like a butt-nekkid cave man, how come the rest of the world was still livin’ on easy street?

It made him mad. He decided to start an investigation. The government of Sandy, Texas appointed a special investigator (Sandy) to look into the possibility of foreign intervention into its affairs.

It took the special investigator a week to discover that the newfangled mobile phone only worked when the generator was on. That made him mad too. Was that part of the conspiracy? Was the salesman at the Radio Shack in on it? No one had explained the stupid thing had to have electricity to work. Regular phones didn’t need electricity to work. What was this world coming to?

Stowing his anger, Sandy began his investigation. He called the city offices in Johnson City. He asked the lady who answered if Johnson City was experiencing any Y2K difficulties.

She laughed. “No honey. We’re fine over here.”

Stonewalled. He should have known it would not be easy. He dialed up the City of Austin. A receptionist answered. He repeated the question.

She didn’t know and passed him on to the another department. They passed him on to a third. The third told him the person who would know who to talk to was at lunch and would he please call back a 1 PM. He called back a 1 PM and the person who was supposed to know who to talk to didn’t know who to talk to, but they did know who might know who to talk to and passed him on to that party.

The person the last person thought might know who to talk to didn’t have the foggiest idea who to talk to but didn’t want Sandy to feel bad so she listened to him recount his woes for fifteen minutes and then sent him back to the receptionist.

The receptionist decided he was a crank, closed her eyes and pushed a button at random. The person who answered asked Sandy to participate in a short customer service survey designed to discover if Austin city services were effectively answering the needs of its citizens. After he finished the survey, she informed him that the person he needed to talk to was on vacation and he would have to call back in two weeks.

It was all starting to fit together. The city employee in Johnson City must have warned the people in Austin that he was on the trail.

He thought about driving his pickup to Austin to continue the investigation but his fuel supply was getting low. He walked out side to get the measuring rod he used to check the level of the underground gas tank when an unexpected vehicle drove up.

It was the mailman. Now you must understand that it is not common for Sandy, Texas to get correspondence. In fact, the reason Sherwin Dornak, the person who is now called Sandy, Texas, went to the county courthouse and changed his name to match the name of his little town, was that he was lonely.

The civic entity of Sandy, Texas received mass mailings of the sort that every civic entity does...sales on public park equipment...offers for discounts on heavy duty culverts... It wasn’t very personal mail perhaps, but it was more than Sherwin ever received.

Therefore, when Sandy (Sherwin) saw the mailman come up that day in February, he was shocked. First, that he was receiving mail, and second, that the federal government was still in existence.

“Howdy,” allowed the mail man when he stepped out of his truck.

“Howdy,” answered Sandy with his mouth hanging open.

“You Sherwin Dornak?” asked the mail carrier.

“Not any more,” stated Sandy.

The mail man looked confused. “Well,” he said “that’s too bad ‘cause I got a registered letter here for a Sherwin Dornak at this address but I can’t hand it over unless he’s here.”

Sandy’s whole identity teetered on the edge of oblivion. He didn’t know what to do. He much preferred his life as Sandy, Texas to the life he had led as Sherwin Dornak. He liked being a civic entity. He loved the power and prestige, the sense of mission, the kickbacks from highway contractors... He was born to be a city...but...a letter!

The mail carrier was stepping back into his truck. “Wait,” yelled Sandy. “I’m Sherwin Dornak.”

The federal employee gave him a sideways looks as though he was going to get bureaucratic, but then shook his head, had Sandy sign the slip and handed over the letter.

Sandy (or perhaps I should say Sherwin) was ecstatic. He had not received a personal letter since his last remaining cousin, Baldar Dornak, had died seven years before. He tore open the envelope, his heart filled with joy and anticipation.

It was a letter from the telephone company telling him his phone service was being discontinued due to non payment.

Sandy’s world collapsed around him. All his hopes plummetted into a deep dark well of frustration and anger, therein to cry out faintly once or twice and then drown in fast rising bile.

This was the last straw! They had gone too far. Clearly this was another piece of an orchestrated campaign of psychological warfare aimed at him by a conspiracy of his enemies. The utility companies...the federal government...even his brother and sister civic entities...they were all out to get him.

They wanted to break him down, cut off his municipal services, dismantle his civic infrastructure.

Sandy threw the offending letter onto the gravel road and stomped on it. He would never submit. (stomp) He would never surrender. (stomp) He would go down fighting to the death. (stomp) They could take his life but not his liberty!

He spun around in the dust and charged back into the Sandy Store. He reached under the counter and pulled out his Grandfather’s 12-gauge shotgun and loaded it, muttering under his breath about his rights and liberties.

“They must want the store,” he mumbled. He looked around the run down old building and realized that didn’t make a lot of sense. He slammed his hand down on the counter. “What is it?” he howled, “Why am I such a threat?”

Suddenly it came to him. It was because he was a city! They were afraid of him because he had become a civic entity. Suddenly the wool fell from his eyes.

He picked it up and put it in the clothes hamper.

“Now it all becomes clear. If I can become a town, then anyone can. They’re afraid I might start a stampede! Regular people everywhere, tired, disenfranchised, unincorporated people, people who have no municipal budgets, those people might rise up. They might annex their immediately outlying areas! They might assert their eminent domain!”

Sandy’s eyes grew wide, his soul filled with the realization of his destiny and power. “They fear me because I could be the spark that starts a revolution!”

Outside, he heard the sound of tires spitting out gravel. He jumped over the counter and hunkered down. This was it! They had come for him! He would make them pay.

For a long fifteen minutes, he peeped over the counter, his shot gun ready. He heard strange banging sounds which he assumed was his enemies setting up ordinance. Finally, he heard a banging on the front door and in walked a guy in a uniform.

“Hello! Anybody here...”

Sandy cocked the shot gun.

“Pedernales Electric here... anybody home...power company...” The man looked puzzled when no one answered. “Uh...look, some tourist called us. We...uh... fixed your transformer out there...must have blown a while back.” The lineman backed out of he doorway nervously. “You shoulda called us... Anyway, get any more problems, let us know.”

Round Top Register - Texas Fun Travel Guide