You’d think that a highly-trained soldier and a well-educated surgeon could manage, between the two of them, to cobble together a decent bug out plan. But, if you’ve seen the latest Godzilla, you already know that you’ve thinking wrong.
Instead of following in their Godzilla-stricken footsteps, you might want to consider the following a very detailed illustration of what NOT to do: When you know for a fact that the city that your family resides in is about to be overrun by two giant monsters and a nuclear warhead, do NOT instruct your family (especially when you’re halfway across the world from them) to wait for you to get back there (with the monsters and the nukes) to them before they bug out.
In Godzilla, soldier dude is way over in Japan, dealing with some stuff. A giant insect monster is definitely headed to San Francisco, and so is Godzilla, and so is a nuclear warhead as part of some lame-brained plan to kill the nuke-eating monster by nuking it. That plan is irrelevant, though, because it sucks.
Soldier dude’s surgeon wife and small son are in San Francisco, right in the path of all this chaos and destruction, so what does he do? He calls them and explicitly informs them to wait right there for him to come back and get them. And then, OBVIOUSLY, he practically dies, his arrival gets delayed, and all the monsters and nuclear badness get to San Francisco before him.
Seriously, Soldier Dude, wouldn’t your family rather wait for you in, I don’t know… Michigan? Your in-laws’ house in Arkansas? Anywhere not the city about to be inevitably destroyed?
LESSON: Don’t ask your family to wait around in a dangerous situation for you when there are effective bugout options.
So the surgeon, exhibiting a shocking lack of common sense, does not bug out when she oughta, even when her husband’s insider info could have gotten her out long before the mass exodus. But fortunately for her, San Francisco’s Godzilla Disaster Preparedness Plan is actually pretty on top of its game, and it’s got actual evacuation buses.
Does she get on one of these buses?
No, Reader. She does not.
LESSON: If your city is providing evacuation buses, then they’re serious. Get on the freaking bus.
She does let her small child on the bus (eventually, at the last minute, to super heightened dramatic effect), but she does not accompany him. Does that kid even know his phone number? His date of birth? His social security number? His parents’ full names? Hell, does “the doctor” even Sharpie her number on his arm, which is something that I still totally do when my kids are going somewhere crazy without me, and I don’t even expect there to be giant battling nuclear monsters while they’re gone!
LESSON: Do not separate yourself from your child. Why do I even have to say this?
I’ll just mention, as an aside, that the San Francisco Godzilla Disaster Preparedness Plan disappointed me by not having dedicated lanes for the evacuation buses, but if they hadn’t, then the small child wouldn’t have gotten to nearly have a bridge collapse underneath him (and the physics of that break in the suspension bridge that didn’t send the entire thing into the bay? Dicey) as his bus sat in a traffic jam while giant monsters battled the military right in front of his face, and that would have lowered our special effects count, and we’d have been sad. And BART stations don’t make good bunkers. Good to know.
Fortunately, this is a movie, not real life, and the family is happily rewarded for their construction of the worst bugout plan EVER by randomly managing to spot each other in a football stadium’s worth of evacuees. So yay, I guess, but their apartment got smashed, they have no changes of clothing, no toiletries or medicine, no water bottles, and they might as well go ahead and get in line, because every one of that football field full of people has to go to the bathroom.
LESSON: Bug out fast, bug out with stuff, and bug out with the authorities if you can’t bug out on your own. If you’re feeling lazy, just pretend like Godzilla is on his way to get you.