Saturday, September 8, 2012

The Truth About Hurricanes

“Should I stay or should I go now?
Should I stay or should I go now?
If I go there will be trouble
And if I stay it will be double
So come on and let me know.”
- The Clash

There are many a teacher that can attest to the truth that I’m no mathematical genius.  This lyrical equation however, always seemed fairly straightforward to me.  If I go (T) < If I stay (2T).  So unless your last name happens to be Artest, Sheen, or Lohan, you should probably commence with packing.

I recently moved to the Gulf Coast and last week marked my initiation into the Hurricane Club.  As Isaac continued his tour of the Caribbean and schlepped into the Gulf, many were faced with the decision to bunker down or hightail it out of there.

My initial inclination as a newbie was to bolt.  However, as the storm zigzagged and wavered in intensity, so did my resolve.  I started watching the veterans around me.  Sure, they picked up an extra flat of water, some perishables in case of a power outage, but panic was nowhere to be seen.  Was this bravado?  I had no interest in sparing my ego, just saving my hide.  Were they watching the same news I was?  Everyone from Al Roker to Nostradamus had us in the crosshairs.  What did they know that I didn’t?

The kids were out of school Monday but Isaac had been a complete no show.  By Tuesday morning’s first ominous rain, I wondered if I had just missed the last raft leaving the Titanic.  We had already been laying around like slugs for a day so when the gusting began to pick up Tuesday afternoon, we did the only reasonable thing two stir crazy yankees could think to do.  We went outside and attempted to play tennis.

It may surprise you to learn this, but these are not optimum conditions for a nice volley.  As I stood there, wind whipping the hair in my face, I thought, “Well, blow me down Olive! So this is what a gale force wind feels like.”  You have to wonder just how many neighbors were provided with unexpected entertainment, peeking through their blinds.  

In the end, the storm all but missed us.  If we were boy scouts, we would not be worthy of the hurricane merit badge.  As it turns out, we made the right decision in staying.  Moreover, we had some great family time.  Who knew I would be so dominant at Hangman?  Well, of course, I did but I couldn’t very well pass up this opportunity to publicly acknowledge it.

We rediscovered Nutella.  Sean honed it to a fine art creating the Mona Lisa of afternoon snacks -- flour tortilla (go with me here), peanut butter and one side, nutella on the other, covered in banana slices, and folded in Elvis-like fashion into a sandwich.

There was lots of tickling/wrestling and we slept, read, talked, fought, laughed, watch movies, ate with and actually looked at one another.  And listened to each other.

What did the veterans know that I didn’t?  I think they knew that they really didn’t know what would happen.  They knew that storms have a mind of their own.  They knew that preparation and calm were key.  And I’m pretty sure they had already figured out just how fun some hurricanes can be.