I have always been fascinated with hurricanes. My dad was an emergency preparedness director and I've been drilled with severe weather survival tips since I was a tot. I stayed for Hugo and found the aftermath exciting. I had never been camping, so I actually had fun roughing it for a few weeks. It was a novel experience. I lived in a rented apartment on high ground back then. I had nothing to lose.

Last week, Hurricane Floyd came calling. I was actually happy that another hurricane was in the vicinity and I looked forward to "riding another one out". Soon, I learned that it was predicted to hit just south of my 5-year old home. At the time, it was a borderline Category 5 storm with top winds of 195mph. We were looking at a 25' storm surge and I live in a flood zone that is about 2' above sea level. But I didn't "Get It" until my wife came home from work and started shoving photo albums into a suitcase. Then it hit me. The End of the World As I Knew It was hours away. The talking heads were saying all that would be left of the city was rubble. A profound Reality Check ensued.

As I prepared to load the compact car with 4 cats and all the worldly possessions that can be crammed into 3 cubic feet, disbelief and denial were quickly overcome with panic and despair. We stayed at the house overnight while 85% of the population jammed the interstate in a frantic and blotched mandatory evacuation of almost the entire southeast's coastal counties. We were the only ones left in the neighborhood.

The next morning, the storm weakened and it began to appear it would miss us. With my newly found confidence, I decided we would stay. My house is elevated 11' on pilings and the north-facing facade is almost all glass. Although we had no flooding at all, the tropical storm force winds rocked the place like it was a shoebox. The windows bowed in as water dripped through the sills. It was apparent that even if Floyd had grazed us with its full fury, we'd be dead.

The next morning after this surreal experience, I realized just how lucky we had been. Although I am still fascinated by the fury of the hurricane, I no longer desire to have them visit me in such dangerous shelter. The episode left such a deep impression on me that it actually broke my addiction to this forum for a few days. It really put things into perspective. And I empathize with the vicitims futher up the coast.

After those few short hours alone with nature's wrath, I am no longer a Hurricane Pollyanna.

-- a (a@a.a), September 21, 1999

Answers

It's a great story, a, thanks for taking the time. Glad you're OK.

-- semper paratus (almost@always.ready), September 21, 1999.

Yes, we are glad you are alright and glad to have you back with the group. Now, it will be interesting to see if any of your neighbors "get it", and get bug out bags for next time.

I have heart attacks when we get 60 mpg gusts and all of our 125' tall trees which surround the house and the neighborhood all start bending 25 - 30 degrees over. It's really awesome and pretty scary. All my trees are 80 or so years old and any one of them could flatten our house, no problem.

-- (nobody@nowhere.com), September 21, 1999.

How ironic.

-- Buddy (buddydc@go.com), September 21, 1999.

As if Buddy would know irony if it bit him in the ass.

a, Floyd weakened and swerved to miss you because of all the cool Y2K- prep karma you've amassed.

Glad it wasn't too terrible for you & your wife..... :=)

-- lisa (lisa@work.now), September 21, 1999.

Thanks "a," glad you're a-okay!

Another example of learning... "what's important..." when push comes to shove.

So, what will you... now... do differently... for Y2K? (If anything).

Diane

-- Diane J. Squire (sacredspaces@yahoo.com), September 21, 1999.

So...... are you going to GET IT, become a hurricane doomer and sell the house? 2ft above water!! ROFLMAO!!!

-- RDH (drherr@erols.com), September 21, 1999.

Having stood in line in a parking lot to wait for someone to give you free ice so you can keep the baby's milk from spoiling is about all it takes to make you a lifetime hurricane GI. That and seeing several dozen homes smashed in half by large trees. That and seeing several hundred houses washed into the ocean. That and hearing news reports of handfuls of people who "ride it out" on the coast only to have their bodies wash up several days later or never wash up at all.

-- Puddintame (achillesg@hotmail.com), September 21, 1999.

wow a -

I've always wondered about you...even wanted to email you. With one post I am blessed with such great insight. 4 cats? I had to put my one into a cat carrier the other day and she cried the whole time she was in there.

I'm glad you and yours are well. I actually wondered where in the heck you had wondered off to.

I had a very similar experience during the Simi Valley earthquake : )

Mike

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-- Michael Taylor (mtdesign3@aol.com), September 21, 1999.

Is this the same doomster "a" who takes stock market crashes and Y2K nightmares seriously?

I must be misunderstanding your character.

-- Randolph (dinosaur@williams-net.com), September 21, 1999.

Randolph: Yes its me. The point I am making is that, since I had survived Hugo, a Cat 4, I thought I had seen the worst. But what I saw in 1989 was only a Cat 2 where I was living (in the eye, not in the NE quandrant). Since I am in a low lying area, a hit by the NE quadrant of Floyd would have been all she wrote. I was in denial about that until last Tuesday. Didn't think it would happen. It almost did.

-- a (a@a.a), September 21, 1999.

a: I would not want to live near any coast. After one HUGE tidal wave, it's Silt City.

-- Randolph (dinosaur@williams-net.com), September 21, 1999.