Bucharest, a city not typically known for aerial bombardment of its civilian architecture, has been rudely awakened by a drone that decided to redecorate a block of flats. Not with pastel shades and tasteful wallpapers, but with a rather dramatic implosion. Residents, bless their cotton socks, have responded with the sort of existential dread that would make Kierkegaard blush. 'I will sleep with fear,' declared one local, presumably after checking the fine print on his landlord's insurance policy.
This is the breaking news that has shaken my gin bottle to its very core. A drone, likely of the military persuasion, has committed a grievous architectural sin against a residential building, leaving Romanians with nothing but a determination to kip alongside their anxieties. I can only assume this is the future of urban living: you buy a flat, you decorate it with IKEA furniture, and then some flying autonomous death machine turns it into a pile of debris. Welcome to the 21st century, where the dinner party conversation now includes 'so, where were you when the drone ate your living room?'
The authorities, predictably, are 'investigating' which is bureaucratic code for 'we have absolutely no idea what happened, but we'll blame Russia if we can't think of anything else.' The drone, presumably, has been traced to a nearby shed or perhaps a disgruntled neighbour who was fed up with the noise from the flat above. But no, this is serious. This is 'I will sleep with fear' serious. Because nothing says 'I am handling the aftermath of a traumatic event' like a public declaration of one's nocturnal trepidations.
Let us pause to consider the phrase 'sleep with fear'. It has a poetic quality, does it not? Like a terrible love story between a man and his pillow. 'Tonight, I shall embrace terror like a lover.' It is the sort of statement that makes you wonder if the person has consulted a therapist, or if they simply read too many Gothic novels. Perhaps they are auditioning for a role in a Romanian horror film. 'I will sleep with fear' is the new 'I will have a cup of tea and a biscuit'. It is a lifestyle choice.
Meanwhile, the drone industry will be thrilled. This is free advertising. 'Buy our drones! They can deliver packages, take aerial photographs, and destroy entire residential blocks!' The neighbours will be green with envy. 'Oh, you have a flying car? We have a flying bomb!'
But let us not mock the terrified. Fear is a reasonable response when your home is turned into a pancake. The real absurdity is that we live in a world where drones are as common as pigeons and just as likely to cause structural damage. The authorities will promise 'increased security' and 'airspace regulations', but we all know that the only effective measure is to sleep under a concrete bunker. Or, as the Romanians have discovered, to sleep with fear.
So raise a glass of gin, preferably a brand that hasn't been contaminated by falling debris, and salute the brave residents of this block of flats. They have taught us a valuable lesson: life is fragile, drones are unpredictable, and the best way to cope is to embrace the terror. Sleep well, Romania. If you can.
