There only sound in my apartment as the darkness descended was my hard drive spinning down. The monitor went black.  Everything went black. The entire apartment block was in darkness, powerless, with 30 minutes until the start of the Beijing 2008 Olympic Games Opening Ceremonies.

More distressing than missing the Olympic Opening Ceremony was the quest I had almost finished in WoW. The evil mage I was fighting was about to depart for the great hereafter when my apartment turned into a fireless, prehistoric cave. I cursed my luck. The mage and his minions would have to wait.

As much as China has progressed, and was about to demonstrate to the world from the Beijing Olympic venues, it is still a developing nation. In the midst of an affluent, gated community, power outages are not uncommon. Waking up in morning to no running water is not uncommon. I scavenged through the cupboards, lighter in hand, for the candle I hoped was there, if said candle survived my recent cupboard purge.

I made a cup of coffee (luckily, I didn’t have depend on a coffee maker), my hands blindly picking up bottles off the kitchen counter until I found one the right shape. A candle fired up, I listened to the commotion in the corridor outside my apartment.

My new neighbors were distressed. Their toddler, a cute little lad that had wandered into my apartment last week, was wailing. What happened, they asked. Does anyone have power? The occupants of several apartments crowded into the dark hall.

Do you have power?

No, you?

No.

Call someone.

Who? What’s the number?

There were harried words as the assembled searched for the maintenance office number. Digits were called from a woman to a man, in an almost panicked voice.

I could understand their concern. They were new residents. If there was no electricity they had nowhere to watch the Opening Ceremonies, and that wouldn’t do. The Olympics are a big deal in China, external validation of considerable national pride.

No one usually calls maintenance when the power goes out. They know it will come back on, eventually. There’s no need to make a phone call. I remember I spent one Sunday without electricity (or air conditioning). Fifteen minutes after tracking down the correct telephone number, and Mrs. Stevo making the call, the power magically returned. I should have done that five hours earlier.  That wasn’t the case on August 8. The seconds clicked by.

What did they say? When?

Soon.

I secretly hoped the power would stay off. I could go to bed early. After a year of Olympic mania I was glad the games were finally here, and would soon be over.

The toddler still wailed. His grandmother made some cooing sounds as she walked him up and down the dark hall. Two men exchanged a nervous chuckle, one said: Soon.

The electronic beep of the air condition was followed by the lights again being set aglow. There were no cheers from the hall, only sighs of relief. The occupants of three apartments returned to their abodes, 15 minutes left until the start of the Opening Ceremonies.

I would have to watch after all. Half-watch, there was still an evil mage that required my attention.

images: The New York Times