Adventures of a different sort

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.

So here I sit, in a coffee shop that's recently reopened, sucking down coffee at a vaguely alarming rate and so grateful that my life is able to return to it's weird normalcy in a headspinning week's time.

Hurricane Recap

As I wrap myself in the nostalgia of old Halloween specials and multitask working on a cellphone battery issue, my NaNoWriMo book cover/blurb and a few other odds and ends, I'm fairly removed from the events of the last few days.

It's been 10 years since a hurricane approached our doorstep. I only know that because the news coverage here made sure to mention it at least once every ten minutes during the round the clock broadcasts.

And while I have a hearty dose of derision for the local reporting on hurricanes (or pretty much any half-way major story), please understand that I was well aware of the dangerous potential a Category 4 hurricane possesses.

Family Guy gets it.

I spent most of my childhood on the southeastern coast of Florida. The first hurricane I remember going through, they closed my elementary school AFTER the waters started rising. My friend's mom took a few of us home because she could get to the school first. I distinctly remember having to sit with my legs folded up on the backseat because the water was so high, her expensive European import had at least 2 inches of water inside on the floorboards. Once home, our front and side yards were more like swimming pools. I was probably 7. I'd learned all about keeping a hurricane box of canned goods, candles, water & flashlights) since I started school. Parents had a heck of a time keeping kids from sneaking a can of Chef-tomato-paste-and-sugar from the emergency supplies in regular weather. My mom avoided this by buying the big, family size cans.

I couldn't tell you if we lost power, though I'm sure we did. I couldn't tell you what the wind sounded like, but given my desire to crawl under the dining room table during summer storms at the time I'm sure it was impressive. I don't even remember if I was scared (I was probably hiding under the dining table in case the roof was ripped off), though I was deeply excited at the idea of having swimming pools in my yard and annoyed that I wasn't allowed to play in the standing water. Some nonsense about critters, disease, debris... you know, real danger stuff that 7 year olds don't get.

The next major hurricane-related memory I have is Andrew. The hurricane that seemed to wipe the southern chunk of Florida from the face of the Earth.

I don't remember what Andrew was like at my house. Looking at the picture, it seems strange because we lived in the white & pink area above the center. It happened right around my birthday, but I've got nothing concrete about the event until AFTER. Until we knew how catastrophic it had been just to our south. Weather stations designed to capture windspeed were obliterated. It was the most destructive hurricane to hit the US at the time (and for some time after) and was a Category 5.

I remember after so well because everything to the south of us was devastated. Whole communities flattened. Nothing left but some block foundations. Price gouging like you couldn't believe. People charging obscene prices for bags of ice, water, gasoline. Food. My dad's company had an office or warehouse in the hardest hit area. People my dad knew well. He and his friend, another coworker, put together semi trucks full of supplies. My siblings and I put together all the extra clothes, books and toys we had - whatever we could do to help. As soon as they had the trucks full, my dad led the convoy down to help take care of those he could.

My first hurricane as an "adult" living on my own, I had to evacuate. This was a year or two into college and evacuate meant I drove to the next town up and stayed with my oldest sibling. In the end, the storm wasn't a big deal, but I remember it because I had to drive across the county to pick up my mother at another sibling's house (she was visiting) because for whatever reason (*cough* favorite kid *cough*) she wanted to stay with her favorite child the oldest kid. So me, the youngest (and least favorite and least experienced driver) drove in ridiculous weather to pick up my mother from my bewildered sibling's apartment, stop at a drive thru at Mom's request (while the car rocked from the wind) and finally manage to get us back to the glorious child's my oldest sibling's house.

A couple of years later, I was a young married woman with a new puppy living on the second floor of a new-ish apartment complex in Central Florida.

And in what I assume was the Atlantic Ocean unleashing pent up energy along the lines of the Flight of the Valkyries, we had 3 direct hits from hurricanes and a couple of tropical storms. We had power and cable when most others in our area wouldn't for weeks to come, and my husband pointed out during one weather update "Hey look! There's the eye of the hurricane and we're right in the middle of it!". Not a pleasant thought. The eye of the hurricane? Calm. Everything surrounding the eye? The worst of the storm. At several points during Hurricane Charley, the glass in our windows was flexing. Ever seen your windows undulate? It's not a comforting feeling; I don't recommend it. Afterwards, our town and the surrounding, well, entire counties of homes were a sea of tarp-covered roofs. It was like a weird Oprah episode. "You get a new roof, and you get a new roof. Everybody's getting a new roof!" And quicker than Samantha could twitch her nose, most major home insurers dropped coverage for the state of Florida. 

Here's to piss-poor coverage and sky-high insurance rates.

A year later, plenty of local homes still sporting blue tarps, my husband and I went on a little weekend getaway. The good news was, we only drove a few hours away to a place along the Atlantic Coast. But while Hurricane Katrina was ravaging Louisiana, it was large enough that we drove through the outer bands and the area we were staying in basically closed down from the weather. Don't mistake that for complaining. At all. I'll take staying in a ghost town any day over being in the direct path of one of the deadliest hurricanes in history. 

Here's where I'm going with all this: hurricanes are a part of living where I live. They weaken, strengthen, wobble, completely change course. The only certainty is the local media folks are going to practically fling themselves around on trapezes while screaming "savage", "devastation", "severe", "shortages", "emergency" and "death to all". They are 10% information and 90% ratings and fear mongering. By the grace of God or just pure dumb luck, we've been okay so far. 

You monitor, collect the facts and then tune out the hype. You plan. If I stay, then what. If I go, then what. You prepare. What do we need, what needs to be done, where is the best place to put necessities? You wait. Am I donating the canned good again this year or are we going to need to use them? Is this thing still heading for us or are we getting a glancing blow? You learn. How quickly do gas stations and grocery stores resupply afterwards? Next time less lima beans and more tuna. Probably should trim the trees at the start of the season from now on. Really should get a couple plastic storage containers to keep the hurricane stuff in. Etc, etc etc. 

Now if we can have another 10+ years before the next hurricane, that'll be just peachy by me. 

I'd also like to take a moment to point out that while the relative impact on the US was less than expected (though still devastating in the coastal areas), the Caribbean bore the full strength of Hurricane Matthew. In this day and age, if you're interested in helping I implore you to do a little research before selecting a charity. Consider organizations with proven track records (particularly those who have served or currently serve the hardest hit areas) and transparency of donations.