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Where Would You Go to Wait for the Apocalypse?

Where Would You Go to Wait for the Apocalypse?

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Dylan Thuras: This is Dylan Thuras, and we have a national emergency. The apocalypse is very nearly here. There isn’t really an apocalypse, or at least there are multiple smaller apocalypses happening, but the full one’s not here yet. But this is a question that has occasionally come up at Atlas Obscura. Where might we spend our last days before the apocalypse? It’s a little bit of a similar question to, let’s say you had a terminal illness and you were going to die in three weeks or three months. Where would you go? What would you do? Why? And so, in this episode, we tried to answer this question. Where might we go if it was all coming to an end? Do we want to go somewhere far away and beautiful? Do we want to stay close to home? I was surprised by the answers in this. Because when you ask people what they’re going to do when it all ends, a certain kind of funny and interesting and sometimes sort of tragic truth comes out. Okay. Here’s the episode.

This is an edited transcript of the Atlas Obscura Podcast: a celebration of the world’s strange, incredible, and wondrous places. Find the show on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, and all major podcast apps.

Our producer Manolo Morales would spend his final days perusing the shelves at Book Off.
Our producer Manolo Morales would spend his final days perusing the shelves at Book Off. MDV Edwards / Shutterstock

Judith Kargbo: Hi, I’m producer Judith Kargbo. If the apocalypse hits, I want to be at Costco. But not just any Costco, an empty one. No chaos, no stampedes, just me vibing in a sea of industrial shelving and endless snacks. And if the world’s ending, I want to eat my way through a lifetime supply of peanut butter pretzels and mini quiches while riding around on a mobility scooter like I own the place. Also, there’s a comfort in bulk. The apocalypse is terrifying, but somehow staring down Armageddon with 400 rolls of toilet paper behind me feels empowering. Feels like I might make it through the third act of a disaster movie. I can picture it now. Me riding through the aisles on one of those motorized carts, blasting my Beyonce Doomsday playlist from a Bluetooth speaker I didn’t pay for, sipping Kirkland wine straight from the bottle. Peaceful, prepared, plastered. Maybe I’ll let my friends and family come through. Maybe. They gotta call first. You don’t just pull up to the apocalypse Costco without an invite. Plus, I’ll either actually survive and have everything I need, or I’ll go out surrounded by an endless supply of the snacks I love. Definitely a win-win.