The Tin Foil Hat Emergency

It started because Linda’s Wi-Fi went down. A normal person might have restarted the router, however Linda was not a normal person. At 7:43 on Saturday morning, she marched into the kitchen holding her phone above her head like she was trying to communicate with a satellite.

“The government has finally done it,” she announced.

Her husband, Dave, looked up from his toast. “Done what?”

“I don’t know yet. That’s why it’s concerning.” Dave returned to his toast. Linda checked Facebook. Nothing loaded. She checked the weather. Nothing. She tried sending her sister a message consisting entirely of question marks. Nothing.

“We’ve been cut off.”

“Or,” Dave suggested, “the Wi-Fi is down.” Linda stared at him.

“That’s exactly what they want you to think.” Dave immediately regretted participating. Ten minutes later, Linda emerged from the kitchen wearing a tin foil hat. Not a little tin foil cap, either. She had constructed something resembling a medieval helmet crossed with a baked potato. It had a pointed top, ear flaps and what appeared to be an antenna.

Dave lowered his toast. “What is happening?”

“Protection.”

“From what?”

“Signals.”

“What signals?”

“All of them.”

Their teenage daughter, Chloe, walked into the kitchen, saw her mother and silently turned around.

“No,” Linda called after her. “Come back. I made you one.”

“I’m moving out.”

“You’re sixteen.”

“I’ll figure it out.”

By 8:30, Linda had made four hats. Dave refused his. Chloe threatened legal action. The dog, unfortunately, had no representation and ended up wearing a small foil bonnet with holes cut out for his ears. Then Linda noticed something horrifying. Her neighbor, Carol, was standing at the end of her driveway staring at her phone.

Linda gasped. “It’s spreading.”

Dave looked out the window. “Linda…”

“CAROL!” Linda yelled, throwing open the front door. Carol looked up.

“IS YOUR INTERNET DOWN?”

“Yes!”

Linda slowly turned toward Dave. “Explain that.”

Dave sighed. “Internet outages generally affect more than one house.”

But Linda was already running across the lawn in slippers and a tin foil helmet. Five minutes later, Carol was wearing one too. Carol hadn’t actually believed Linda’s theory, but she had recently retired and was apparently desperate for entertainment.

Then Bob from across the street came outside. “What are you two doing?”

“Protecting ourselves,” Linda said.

“From what?” Linda leaned closer.

“We’re still narrowing that down.” Bob nodded thoughtfully.

“Better safe than sorry.” By 9:15, Bob had a hat. At 9:30, Carol’s husband joined because he didn’t want to be the only person on the street whose brain was apparently available for government download. At 9:45, someone brought lawn chairs. By 10:00, six adults were sitting in Linda’s driveway wearing tin foil hats while discussing whether microwaves could read thoughts. Dave stood at the window questioning every decision that had led him to this moment.

Then a telecommunications repair van turned onto the street. The driveway went silent. Linda slowly stood.

“They’re here.”

“For God’s sake,” Dave muttered. The technician climbed out of the van and stared at the gathering. Six people in foil hats stared back. The dog barked, his little foil bonnet slipped sideways.

The technician cautiously approached. “Morning.” Nobody answered.

“I’m here about the outage.” Linda narrowed her eyes.

“How convenient.”

The technician looked at Dave through the window. Dave shook his head slowly. Do not involve me. The technician opened a utility box, fiddled with something for approximately five minutes and walked back toward his van.

“You should be back online now.”

Linda checked her phone. Facebook loaded instantly. Everyone gasped.

Carol whispered, “He restored communications.”

The technician stopped walking. “You mean…the internet?”

Nobody answered. He got into his van and left much faster than he’d arrived. Linda eventually admitted that perhaps there had simply been a technical problem. But by then nobody wanted to take off the hats. They were surprisingly warm. Carol brought muffins. Bob brought a cooler. Someone found a roll of industrial-strength foil and began making deluxe models. By lunchtime, the gathering had turned into an unofficial neighbourhood barbecue. Dave finally came outside.

Linda smiled and held up the last tin foil hat. “Changed your mind?”

“Absolutely not.” She handed him a hamburger. He sat down. Ten minutes later, Dave quietly reached for the hat. Linda said nothing. She simply smiled. Because sometimes marriage isn’t about proving you’re right.

Sometimes it’s about knowing exactly when to let your husband voluntarily put on a tin foil hat after spending three hours telling everyone else they were idiots.

And somewhere in a telecommunications office, a technician was filling out a service report:

Cause of outage: damaged cable.

Additional notes: Absolutely not paid enough for this.

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