The Viets Guide to a South Florida Hurricane Season

By Elaine Viets                                                       

Hurricane Earl turned to be the biggest bust this side of Playboy. Igor has been promoted from a tropical storm to a hurricane. Meanwhile, another storm is brewing off the coast of Africa.

Welcome to hurricane season in the subtropics. When we first moved to Fort Lauderdale, we had no idea how to handle a hurricane. After Rita, Ike, Charlie, Katrina, Wilma and other blowhards, we’ve learned how to deal with them.

I grew up in Tornado Alley in St. Louis. When a tornado was sighted, warning sirens would blare. We had maybe two minutes to run for the basement before our house exploded over our heads.

In a hurricane zone, we have days before the hurricane hits. The weather service starts tracking the windy troublemaker shortly after birth and follows it for more than a week. That’s enough time to pack up the family, the pets, the computers and the wedding pictures.

 For our first hurricane, Rita, my husband Don and I decided to stay in our beach condo and watch the storm. After all, Rita was only a mild Category One. Dumb idea. We had to put down the hurricane shutters, so it was like being trapped in a cave. The wind howled like a wild beast and threw trees, coconuts and bricks at our shutters. Both cats were Velcroed to my chest for 48 hours, shaking in fear. At the height of the storm, Don and I sat in the bathtub in the only windowless room in the condo. I thought soap scum was going to be my last view on this earth.

For the other hurricanes, we evacuated. As soon as the TV news gave the storm a category and the maps showed it heading our way, it was time to leave.

Here’s what I don’t tell my worried relatives: There are only three highways out of South Florida – 1-95, the Turnpike and A1A, and that one runs along the ocean, so it will be flooded.

The other highways turn into six-lane parking lots. If we take them, we’ll run out of gas three hours out of town and become trapped in a traffic jam.

Fortunately, most people do not understand Florida geography.

On the TV news, you see fleeing families sleeping on cots in crowded gyms and churches. These shelters are for the poor. The rich and the spendthrift, like us, book a room at a hotel inland. The question is: where?

During one major hurricane, some South Floridians fled to Orlando, four hours away and definitely inland. The Mouse got hit. Others ran to Punta Gorda on the west coast of Florida. They got slammed, too.

We usually go to a Holiday Inn about 40 miles inland to wait out the storm and hope we don’t get flattened by spin-off tornadoes. Aunt Betty called us when we were sitting in a hotel room, watching some poor drenched TV reporter. "I saw the news," my aunt said. "Are you okay?"

"It’s touch and go," I told her. "We’re running low on bath towels."

Here’s another advantage to evacuating to a hotel: We can take our cats. Most shelters don’t accept animals.

During a hurricane, hotels have a "don’t ask, don’t tell" policy: As long as your pets are quiet, they can stay in your room.

Don carried the cats to our room up the back stairs, the pet caddy draped with his raincoat. The sly *-cats didn’t make a sound.

"Never thought I’d see the day I’d be sneaking cats into a hotel," he said.

 

 

Comments

[Mary S.]

I couldn't take the stress of living in hurricane areas. Thank goodness the hotel doesn't discriminate against cats during the bad seasons!

[Elaine Viets]

I don't find living in hurricane country as stressful as Tornado Alley. Something about that green sky and last-minute dash to the basement is more upsetting to me.

[Kristina L]

I'm so glad I don't live in hurricane areas. Some motels will let you bring cats in openly, but I think they require an extra deposit or something like that.

[Elaine Viets]

The hotel where I worked as a maid, Kristina, for MURDER WITH RESERVATIONS, required a $25 pet deposit. But during hurricane season the hotels we've been to waive that fee. Of course they have a captive audience eating three meals a day (and drinking everything in the bar)so they make plenty of money. And we tipped the maids well.

[krisneri]

Having lived most of my life in earthquake country, when people asked me how I could live there, I always said that I thought people find the natural disasters they can tolerate and avoid the ones they can't. After surviving the Big One, I decided I couldn't tolerate earthquakes anymore. Now after reading this, I'm continuing to avoid hurricanes and tornadoes, too.

I'm glad the hotels turn a blind eye to the cats, too!

[Elaine Viets]

I'm okay with the hurricanes so far, Kris. But we were only sideswiped by Katrina and Wilma. If we ever take a storm full on, I might change my mind.

[Hank Phillippi Ryan]

It's amazing, though, just clinically..how incredibly powerful nature is. You know? ALl our little petty worries and dilemmas--just disappear. A hurricane, a tornado, a nor'easter--and suddenly everyone's priorities change.

And of course, Elaine. Your cats are brilliant. They know the scoop.

[Elaine Viets]

In my next life, Hank, I want to come back as my housecat with someone to wait on me and feed me.

[Nike Shox Rivalry]

Only the people's social practice is the criterion of knowledge for people outside the standard. The standard of truth is only social practice.Do you think so?