Y2K? Ain't No Way!
January 12, 2000

Well.
Nothing.
Nothing happened.

The stroke of midnight January 1, 2000 came and went and nothing happened.

I was in one of my favorite haunts on New Year's Eve afternoon and ordered a glass of frothy draft brew. The Bartender set it down in front of me.

"Say," I piped up. "Is this beer Y2K compliant?

The barkeep assured me that guys had been guzzling the stuff all day without anything other than the usual ill effects.

I took a swig. It tasted fine.

Thus emboldened, I began to ponder Y2K. As Fostoria's leading investigative journalist, I knew it was imperative that I GET THE STORY!

By the time my beer was gone, I had a plan. Female Companion and I would attend that night's Millennium festivities downtown.

There was around 75 people there. Linda Anderson sang. Browning Payne spoke on behalf of the Fostoria Community Arts Council. New Mayor John Davoli addressed the crowd.

Someone passed out noisemakers. At midnight outgoing Safety Service Director Ron Reinhard released the silver ball from the flag pole. Everyone made noise and sang Auld Lang Syne. 2000 had arrived in Fostoria.

Now Female Companion and I would scour the city for signs of Y2K's devastating impact.

We walked home in the cold, crisp air. Christmas lights still twinkled on houses along College Avenue. The city street lights still cast their glow over our highways and byways.

At my house Female Companion turned on the tap for water to make tea and water (of all things!) gushed out.

The furnace was still cranking out cozy warm BTUs by the cubic foot.

Nothing.

On the Cleveland news New Year's Eve morning, a reporter interviewed three people at a carry out. One man was buying extra bottled water. He was Y2K compliant.

A lady said she was sick of Y2K. To her, it was a lot of bunk and she was ignoring it. She was Y2K impervious.

A young fellow said he realized that Y2K could mean the end of civilization as we know it. That's why he was buying a 12-pack of beer. Naturally, he was Y2K intoxicated.

When Female Companion arrived at the house around 5 p.m. New Years Eve, I suggested that Y2K might mean the end of the world.

She said, "Then we better live it up for the next seven hours."

That kind of keen insight is tough to argue with. So we decided to have a nice dinner.

We made Polish beer soup. That's polewka z piwa for those of you not in the know.

It's pretty simple. Boil a couple cans of beer. Add a mixture of beaten egg yolks and sugar. Top with croutons and grated cheese.

Have to confess, it was a little on the bland side for my tastes. But if you don't try new things, you never find out what you like.

We had some fancy hors d'oeuvres that Female Companion shoplifted from some store and a couple glasses of Zinfandel. Very nice.

(Okay, okay, I confess. Female Companion didn't really steal the hors d'oeuvres. At least, I can't prove she heisted them. She's pretty law abiding.)

On New Year's Day, I pondered how best to continue my Y2K investigations.

So I fired up my computer and checked all my important files. Microsoft word processing program? Yo!

Free Cell solitaire program? Hunky-dory.

Then I went to the American Legion where they were serving the traditional pork and sauerkraut.

After eating, under the ruse of helping clean up, I checked the coolers (the beer was cold), I checked the roaster (the kraut, pork and dumplings were hot) and I checked the big screen TV (the football players were happily blocking and tackling the daylights out of each other.)

I breathed a deep sight of relief. The state of the nation's infrastructure was sound.

What Y2K precautions did you take? Any? I took a few.

I made sure I had fuel for my kerosene heater. I bought some canned goods — especially pears. I like canned pears. And I filled a few jugs of water.

About six months ago, my personal computer consultant, my brother-in-law, Tom, came and made sure I was ready for Y2K.

Tom is a very nice guy who can be excused for his one moral failing in life. He's from Chicago and, of consequence, roots for the Bears, a condition for which there seems to be no treatment.

Finally, I bought a sack (large size) of Doritos. I ain't afraid of no computer.

Now the Y2K gurus caution that there may still be some "glitches" lurking around in some computers out there. So beware.

But talk about precautions. A fellow on C-Span said that government and private sector combined, the US spend $350 billion to put Y2K to rout.

That's billion with a "B." Whew!

So on the strength of my exhaustive inquiry and analysis, the Focus can safely report that once again all is right with the world.

Fostoria? She's A-OK in Y2K.