Los Angeles to El Nino: Go Ahead, Kiss My Latte

I recently read an article in The Times relating the dismal turnout at an El Nino preparedness workshop in San Pedro put on by the Department of Public Works. A crowd of several hundred had been expected, and only 28 people showed up. The event’s organizers were flabbergasted, and after reading the article, I was too, though for a different reason. For while they were wondering where in the world those 272-plus other responsible and concerned Angelenos could have been hiding that night, I was wondering how in heaven’s name they had managed to reel in 28. Because, let’s face it, people, as impending Los Angeles disasters go, El Nino just hasn’t caught our collective imagination.

And why not? Big and bad as it may be, El Nino is still just a series of rainstorms. Not a hurricane, not a tornado, just wind and rain. This is supposed to set the citizens of Los Angeles into our run-for-the-hills mode? When the threat of a 9.0 earthquake turning everything west of the San Andreas fault into the world’s biggest hunk of flotsam hangs over our heads 24 hours a day, seven days a week?

I don’t think so.

I mean, consider where we are: Los Angeles, home of the “Catch my house, it’s falling a) down a mudsoaked hill; b) into the Malibu surf; or c) into yet another collapsed Metro Rail tunnel” property insurance policy. There is no catastrophe we haven’t seen or been forced to prepare for. Get ready for El Nino? Why? How much different can the El Nino preparedness kit be from our Big One preparedness kit? Or our Flashflood From Hell preparedness kit? Or our No, Apparently, We Can’t All Just Get Along riot preparedness kit?

Not that the dangers of El Nino shouldn’t be taken seriously. They most certainly should. But if the powers that be want us to stand up and take notice when they sound the El Nino alarm, they’re going to have to up the decibel level of their warnings to account for our disaster burnout. Because the words “torrential downpour” just don’t have the same meaning to us that they might to others. Tell someone in southern Texas that the rains are coming, for instance, and he starts building an ark. Tell me the same thing, and all I’m likely to do is scratch this Saturday’s soccer game out of my calendar book.

You want Angelenos to fear El Nino? Show it the respect and awe that it deserves? Here’s what you need to say about its probable consequences:

* No one at Disney will be available to hear pitches for months.

* Lack of demand will cause Starbucks to suspend serving Frappuccinos indefinitely.

* All cellular phone service will be down except in areas where roaming charges apply.

* The California Highway Patrol will stop Toyota Landcruiser owners at random to ensure that they actually know how to put their so-called sport utility vehicles into some gear other than drive, park or reverse.

* The only way to get anywhere in the San Fernando Valley will be via the intersection of Ventura and Sepulveda boulevards, where street vendors will make a killing selling oars to the high bidders.

Oh, and one more thing. That wimpy name has to go. El Nino (“the Child”) is not the kind of moniker you give something when you want people as jaded as we are to find it intimidating.

How do you say, “Kiss your tuchis goodbye” en Espanol?