One week ago, I, along with whoever else remained in the state of Florida, braced for the coming hurricane. Hurricane Irma was a big ole beast of a storm. And I've got to tell you, it took everything I've learned over the course of nearly a lifetime in this state to make it through the past two weeks with a dose of relief.
Irma went on her merry, destructive, psycho-ex-girlfriend-level-crazy way by Monday afternoon.
Let me rewind a little though. The week leading up to her arrival, my spidey-hurricane sense tingled. I began a snotty blog post about rising hurricane hysteria but never got back to it. And while the hysteria doesn't help anybody and it's a big part of frustration during hurricane season, I'm kind of glad I didn't finish that bitch session before Irma bitch slapped us.
It's exceptionally rare that I do any kind of hurricane prep. Seriously. The local news stations whip everyone in a frenzy, and usually it doesn't come near us. Last year was the first time in 12 years a major storm headed our way and at the last minute, as they are want to do like a dizzy toddler, Hurricane Matthew weaved to the right and spared my area the direct hit the weathermen were salivating over.
This year, when the projection said this angry drunk of a storm was heading our way, I picked up bottled water and canned goods like it was my destiny. I'd like to point out, I was NOT one of those assholes who bought up 20-30 cases of water leaving the rest of their neighbors scrambling to find supplies. I got what my family & animals would need for about a week and stayed the hell out of the stores.
Because to a point, there's not a whole lot you can do about the storm. You might need to put up plywood to cover your windows. You might need to bring in outside furniture, bird feeders and the like. But once that storm's howling (literally howling) outside, you're playing a waiting game. What you plan for, what most of Central Florida learned the super, duper grueling way about 13 years ago, is that you plan for the after. You plan for no running water. You plan for no power. You plan for no stores, restaurants or gas stations to have those things or anything else for that matter. And you've got to plan for that for at least a week, longer if you live outside of a subdivision where there are centralized substations.
I've gone through several hurricanes. I posted about that last year after Matthew. I've gone through a couple of impressive blizzards. Irma covered the whole state. The entire thing. There was not a place in the state that wasn't touched by at least one or two storm bands. I couldn't really tell you what the news was saying for the first several days after Irma, what without having power, phone or internet, but I know there is a sense of awe, pants-shitting awe, at the size and capability of this storm.
My family and I were fortunate. Our power was out from Sunday night until Wednesday night. I have a couple of friends who are still without power and were told to expect to be so anywhere from 2 more days to another week or longer. I don't care what your religious beliefs may or may not be, God, the universe or just collective consciousness needs to bless the power company linemen & tree trimmers, many out of state workers flooding in this week to help get the state back up and running. As soon as people are getting power up, they're cooking them hot meals, bringing them beer, liquor and cold water, bringing them pizza as restaurants reopen. Some kids are baking cookies or pastries or bringing them hand drawn thank yous with trays of store bought cookies.
We're a little dizzy here now. Last week was hurry up and panic, prepare as best you could and wait. Wait. W...a...i...t. Sunday the very air around us was deadly. Snapping power polls like I'd snap dry spaghetti. Uprooting trees like their roots were made of tissue paper. Monday we crept out of our darkened houses for fresh air and to check the damage. Tuesday we sweated. It was kind of like everyone in the state was doing a sweat gland potency test. This continued until you got power and then the food nervousness began. Stores were refilling - and emptying as soon as trucks came in. It wasn't until Friday afternoon that perishables started returning to the shelves faster than they could be bought up. What a relief it was to buy a carton of eggs. Fresh milk. No canned goods. Not that I wasn't glad to have them, but not my first choice at the moment.
All in the span of a week, barely two if you count the panicked week of watching Irma's arrival.
