The glitz, glam and shame of small-town journalism

It's questionable how one should act when something as big and important as world women's curling strolls into your little Saskatchewan town.

From TSN cameras and a packed Credit Union i-plex to fluorescent polka-dotted pants and rubber things called sliders, this past week has been nothing short of a three-ring circus.

As a reporter I've been granted what some may refer to as 'special privileges,' including clearance to go out onto the ice as well as into the backstage area where all the action happens behind the scenes.

From day one as the prestigious letters Z, I, B and M were inked on my accreditation pass — which, by the way, I still have no idea what they mean but, heck, I guess it's got to be good — I knew this nine-day curling extravaganza was going to be something this nobody journalist has always hoped to experience.

Okay, so I’ll admit sitting at the feet of the curlers as they compete and schmoozing with the CTV, Canadian Press and, of course, TSN hot shots in the media room has been rather exciting.

Other aspects, however, have been much less glamourous, I assure you. Even the coveted media room located in the dungeon-like bleak basement of the i-plex is unfriendly at the best of times.

And as I sit at ice level taking pictures, I pause and take a moment to survey my more distinguished media counterparts. I look at their pontoon-sized camera lenses before returning my gaze back down at my much smaller, much less cool Nikon D-90 and 300 millimetre lens. Pathetic in comparison.

A pang of lens envy and even a little bit of embarrassment rushes over me. However, after the draw is finished and the overzealous cameras are put away, we meet in a scrum and are all equals once again.

All business aside, there’s no denying that little Swift Current can throw one heck of a party. Jeff Chambers’ Keith’s Patch has been the place to be since opening night last Saturday.

Although the bands have been entertaining to say the least — and I'm especially referring to my personal favourites, the platform-wearing, boa-sporting Men Without Shame — the hands down best part about the Patch has been the coming together of curling fans of all ages.

As I cruised the crowded, sweat-filled former curling rink — now the Patch — on opening weekend, I noticed people well into their 70s cheerfully carousing with others young enough to be their grandchildren.

Who knew a sport and a couple of five dollar beverages could bring generations of strangers together here in Swift Current.

So after all is said and done, the flags are ripped down and given back, and the i-plex is once again converted back into a hockey arena, I’ll be sad to see the world leave and this experience become a distant memory.

Could Canada be next?

As Canadians, we all likely find it difficult to imagine what it feels like to be taken under the harsh, relentless wrath of a natural disaster. Mercilessly torn away from our homes and onto streets now flooded with broken vehicles, orphaned pets and blood-stained asphalt.

It is difficult to imagine what it would have been like to be in Port-au-Prince, Haiti Jan. 12 or Feb. 27 in the Maule Region of Chile.

The devastating 8.8-magnitude earthquake, tsunami and 50 aftershocks which shook and shattered cities along the Chilean shoreline killed nearly 800 people.

The powerful earthquake was 500 times more severe than the 7.0 which struck Haiti a month earlier, but killed 0.3 per cent of the estimated 250,000 declared dead after Haiti's quake.

A likely difference in the two death tolls was preparedness.

Chile is accustomed to earthquakes, receiving a magnitude 7.0 or higher at least once every five years. Haiti, on the other hand, is more prone to hurricanes.

After a massive 9.5 earthquake hit Chile in 1960 - the strongest ever recorded - a new building code was drafted by the Chilean government requiring all new developments be built following strict earthquake-resistant guidelines.

Most, if not all, Haitian buildings were not built to withstand earthquakes, which likely had a lot to do with the extreme variant in the two death tolls.

Now imagine the same occurring right here in Canada. It makes me wonder how well our buildings would hold up against even the slightest movement or shift under our own feet. How many of our lives would be taken by a similar freak act of nature?

Afterall, the only earthquake-related deaths in Canada ever recorded was back in 1929, when a 7.2 on the Richter scale rumbled beneath the Atlantic Ocean sending tsunami waves crashing over Newfoundland. An estimated 30 people were killed.

Sometimes it's easy to get caught up in our safe northern bubble, blissfully immune to the peril of frequent earthquakes, tornadoes, avalanches and tsunamis.

Natural disasters never truly hit home unless friends, loved ones or even acquaintances get caught in the action elsewhere in the world.

Thanks to two vague updates on a former classmate's Facebook page, I learned he and a couple of friends were smack dab in the middle of it all when the quake hit Chile.

"We are okay here, but it was pretty scary. Not sure when we can get out since the airport is closed," one message read.

I have tried to contact him since then via Facebook messages, but have received no reply. All I can assume is they are still trying to get a flight back home to Calgary.

According to an Associated Press news report, the airport in Santiago - Chile's capital city located 321 km from the epicentre of the quake, and where they'd likely fly out of - reopened its runways on Mar. 1 for a limited number of flights.

Until then, I suppose it's fingers-crossed for their safe return to Canada.