In the process of apartment hunting in San Diego, it quickly became apparent to me that if an outbreak of reanimated corpses were to suddenly appear off highway 8, I would become a human sandwich (perhaps on rye) within moments (I think I would taste best with some Dijon mustard, too). This place is flipping cramped, a never-ending sea of urban sprawl. Cripes, I could hope to confiscate one of those shiny boats in port, but since I can barely navigate Cally's freeway system, I am more likely to find myself drifting to my death rather than being eaten.
These thoughts hang in the back of my mind as we weight the benefits of living close to downtown versus the es-capability of more easterly locations. I mean, there is either the ocean to the west (not drinkable) or the desert to the east (likewise parch). At least with my jeep, I could off-road to life?
Doesn't this stuff ever freak city people out? Do they care that they are a small disaster away from death and destruction? I have always felt super uneasy in crowds, unsafe, likely to be trampled to death. I dislike being about to smell their breakfast through my walls, cringe at the blast of their horrible tastes in music, and wait for them--ugh, I hate waiting.
I understand people want to be in the know, in the now, deep in the heart of the city. But, why does it seem so many are willing to sacrifice their safety for the ability to walk to 10 bars rather than 2 in the suburbs? I know there is more to it, but I genuinely do not get/accept/want to be so dependent on the whims of others when my life and my family is at stake. Call me paranoid, but at least when the zombies come, you can still call me.
