[at-l] OT: Hurricane prep

[KellyGoVols at aol.com (KellyGoVols@xxxxxxx)]

In a message dated 9/16/2003 5:39:04 PM Eastern Standard Time, 
askowronek@mindspring.com writes:


> One of them is my regular hiking partner. We two, of course, are the ones 
> providing all the non-electric cooking and lighting gear.

As a hiker and a resident of "hurricane alley" my hiking gear doubles as 
hurricane supplies.  Tres convenient.  

When Andrew was headed our way (no one knows EXACTLY where these storms will 
hit) my Mom, dad and I chose the guest bathroom as a "haven" as it had no 
windows and was an interior room.  We made sure we could all fit, and that a 
mattress could be brought in to cover us.  Honestly, this is what the experts 
suggest, just in case your windows blow out or your roof does a Dorothy.  It 
protects you from debris... You know, lawn furniture, trees, boats (yes, a boat 
landed in someone's home in Miami).  To give you a visual of the power of flying 
debris check out:     <A HREF="http://www.atmos.albany.edu/deas/atmclasses/atm422/ClassProject/Neiles/damage1.gif";>
http://www.atmos.albany.edu/deas/atmclasses/atm422/ClassProject/Neiles/damage1.gif</A> 

Andrew, however, was the most devastating storm of the century, leaving 
250,000 people homeless, destroyed over 25,000 homes, and seriously damaged over 
25,000.  Andrew took 23 lives.  It cost 26 billion dollars. Some people still 
haven't gotten over it.  Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.  

The aftermath was heartbreaking.  The images are still vivid in my mind.  The 
convoy of tanks on I-95 headed to Miami to provide relief and build "tent 
city" for the temporarily homeless.  The old woman walking around a flattened 
neighborhood calling out weakly, "Poochie?  Poochie?"  The little girl standing 
in front of a gutted house, doll in hand, with that far away look in her eyes.  
Then you had the opportunists.  Basterd sons of bitches.  Selling a gallon of 
water for $10.  Ice for $20.  Generators up to $1000.  People begging, 
fighting, pleading for food.  Painted insurance policy numbers on what was left of 
their roofs.  Dogs howling for their owners.  

Prior to the storm, it was eerily calm.  Hardly a breeze and no bird 
whistles.  It was like they KNEW something was going to happen.  It was like the 
proverbial "calm before the storm" but in a noise sense. You did hear the "bang, 
bang, bang" of plywood being applied to windows. You saw people on ladders 
removing coconuts from palm trees as they become lethal bombs during a hurricane.  
Lawn ornaments and furniture were brought inside, or, if you had a pool, they 
were submerged to prevent them from flying through your house. Then, it 
starts. Slowly.  The wind blows and tree branches whip in anger.  And then it comes 
on like gang busters.  It sounds like a freight train.  The whole house 
shakes.  Windows rattle.  This goes on for a couple of hours or so, then the eye 
passes over.  Calm again.  The sun comes out.  It's like a typical sunny day in 
South Florida. People emerge from their havens to check the damage, check on 
the neighbors, etc. Then, about an hour later, the wind picks up again from the 
opposite direction.  It's like two hurricanes.  Once it's over, you access the 
damage.  Bewildered, you thank God you're all right.  You worry and check on 
your neighbors again.  People gather and talk.  There are no phones, electric 
or water.  

My Mom, dad and I survived without having to retreat to our "safe haven" or 
use our mattress.  Thankfully, we were 60 miles or so from the direct hit.  We 
didn't have electric for 48 hours, though, which was a bitch during the humid 
August heat.  There was no damage to our house, but the house next door had a 
palm tree roof ornament.  A bicycle landed on car.  

Since everyone from Palm Beach to Key Largo had no power for at least 48 
hours, no one knew the extent of the damage.  Once the power was restored, all of 
South Florida was glued to the TV.  The damage was devastating.  Overwhelming. 
 Heart breaking.  I cried.  I cried for the people who lost homes and family 
and pets, I cried in relief that I was OK.  To this day, the memories are as 
vivid as if it happened yesterday.

I've been through three hurricanes and countless tropical storms.  One was a 
category one, one was a category two, and then category five Andrew.  I know 
that if a category one, two or even three headed my way, I'd stick around.  If 
a category four or five is in my path, I'm getting the hell out of Dodge.

My suggestion is if you are in the path of a hurricane, make your plans 
early.  Contact friends and family and formulate a communication plan.  Secure your 
valuables.  And last but not least, pray.

Sorry for the long post.  Everyone in the path of the hurricane take care, 
I'm praying for you.

GoVols
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