Tuesday started as a typical work day. I arrived at the office, checked my email and went to get a cup of coffee. On my way to retrieve a large cup of caffeine, I remembered that there was mail from Monday in my mailbox – so I went to get my mail before I got my coffee. There were a few pieces of mail in the box – a letter, a postcard and a small, padded manila envelope. The manila envelope wasn’t addressed to me personally, but I figured if it was in my mailbox, then it was supposed to be directed to me. I like opening my mail, because I never know what’s going to be inside. So far at my current job, I’ve received a pocket meat thermometer, 3D glasses and a “grill in a box” in the mail – so every new package is an adventure. Unfortunately, Tuesday’s adventure was one I didn’t really want.
As I tore back the corner of my small manila envelope, a white powdery substance poofed everywhere. (I know that ‘poofed’ isn’t really a word – but imagine what happened to powdered sugar when you breathe on it.) Working in D.C., my mind immediately jumps to anthrax but I assume I am just a victim of an over-active imagination. I may be 26 and pay my own bills, but in a stressful situation I still need to find an “adult” or parent-type figure. I know that several people fitting this description are in the kitchen (which is next door to the mailroom) so I gingerly carry the envelope into the kitchen and ask what I should do. They decided that we needed to put the envelope in a Ziploc bag and consider calling the authorities. Now, calling the authorities didn’t really sound like fun to me – what happens when the come down to our office and decide that I over-reacted? I wind up looking like an idiot. So to cover our bases, we checked our database for the name and return address and after coming up empty-handed we googled the address. I know you are going to die of not surprise, but the address was fake.
This started a chain of events that included: putting me in isolation (because I had touched the substance), turning of the ventilation for our building, a call to the USDA (which makes sense because of where I work), a call to 911, and blocking off the mailroom/kitchen area of our office. Things were starting to get a little out of control. The fire department showed up first, and they made everyone leave our main office suite except me, the “adult” who helped me (he touched the substance as well) and a co-worker who was in the room when I opened the envelope. This started to freak me out a little, but it was probably a hoax or I over-reacted – so no big deal, right?
Then the cops showed up. But here’s where I started to get a little more freaked out – they wouldn’t enter our office without their HazMat suits, so they questioned me by phone. Yeah, they were standing outside asking me questions about the envelope: Did it have suspicious writing on it? Was it over-postaged? Was their anything suspicious about the envelope? (Um…white powder came out of the freakin’ envelope – is that suspicious enough?)
Outbreak
As I’m having this lovely conversation with the authorities, these guys in HazMat suits enter the office suite. I’m talking, straight out of the movie Outbreak HazMat suits. By now, they have shut down our entire block in downtown DC – which is no easy feat. There are at least 4 fire trucks, several ambulances, HazMat trucks, police cars, FBI cars, special investigators for other agencies – it’s a circus outside of our office building. And all because I opened my mail – this was turning out to be the best Tuesday ever.
The firemen tried to keep me calm as they explained to me the decontamination protocol (they would take my clothes, I would change into a sterile suit thing, I would do an initial decontamination downstairs before they released me to go to the hospital for further testing and decontamination). I know they were trying really hard, but that’s not news one takes calmly…all I could think was, “But I really like this outfit.”
The lock-down started around 10 am, so it was getting to be lunchtime and no one could get in or out of our building. Everyone was getting antsy because we were all hungry. I knew a coworker had some snacks and a bottle of Crown Royal under his desk, so if all else failed – I’d be fine. Once the had finished the initial testing and were pretty sure it was a hoax, they let someone order pizza – but the police had to escort someone to go get the pizza because the pizza delivery guy wasn’t even allowed on our block. I have never been more excited for pizza in my life.
After four and a half hours in lock-down, questioning by the DC police, the DC fire department, and a couple of special investigators, and countless chemical tests, they determined that there was no serious threat and we were free to go. We still don’t know what the substance was, what the letter in the envelope said or why someone would send that. We have our theories about the motive – but no one knows for sure. Hopefully, they will find out who did this and prosecute them or something. I don’t really care about being inconvenienced – I found the emergency response to go rather smoothly and I don’t have anthrax, so no biggie – but the whole situation created a huge waste of DC resources.
Needless to say, I am very thankful that today has been an extremely uneventful Wednesday.
