 Photo credit: Joelle Presby |  Photo credit: Joelle Presby |
As a survivor of too many hurricane-induced floods, the onset of Atlantic Hurricane Season next week sets my own personal threat level warning to orange. Traditionally, one is to pretend to live in a world devoid of natural disasters up until Jim Cantore books a flight to your town. At which point, one is to buy vast quantities of milk, eggs, and bread. Panicked people seem to prefer French toast above all other foods. I recommend a warm berry compote or genuine maple syrup to adorn your breakfasts in the weeks after the disaster warning has passed without incident.
For those few who might want to break with tradition and plan ahead, I present my lessons learned from hurricane disasters past:
(1) If you want to leave, go early.
I live in an area with many bridges and tunnels, and city authorities sometimes order my little neighborhood evacuated. Even if I were to shelter in place, a minor storm can make the city’s main roads impassible by car. (Some of my neighbors use canoes and kayaks after the police cordon off the road.)
Traffic after an evacuation order is in place is about twice as bad as beach traffic on the first warm weekend of summer. A full tank of gas and a friend with a guest room can be all the disaster prep you need, but it’s hard to get out if you don’t leave early.
(2) Even if you might leave, prepare to stay.
A few cases of water and some granola bars can be awfully useful if work requirements prevent an early evacuation and the traffic piles up too much for you to be sure you could get where you’re going before the storm hits. A full propane tank for the grill or a bag of charcoal briquettes do a great job turning the meat in your freezer into a neighborhood BBQ after the power goes out. Sometimes the best hurricane parties are after the storm. Consider picking up a few limes and burger fixings while emptying the grocery store of bread and milk.
(3) Even if you intend to stay, be willing to leave.
While planning the hurricane party of the century, consider filling up the gas tank. Sometimes storms turn towards land instead of away. Sometimes they strengthen. While your heirs might appreciate the assorted fine beverages chilling in your ice-filled bathtub, that fast growing mold stormwater leaves behind is pretty disgusting and they'd probably rather you weren't dead. Also, if you must die, try not to be the Darwin award-winning type who stays behind after police ordered evacuation and gets rescue workers killed.
That is all. Have a pleasant 2016 Atlantic Hurricane Season. May your French toast be tasty and all your storms go out to sea.
For those few who might want to break with tradition and plan ahead, I present my lessons learned from hurricane disasters past:
(1) If you want to leave, go early.
I live in an area with many bridges and tunnels, and city authorities sometimes order my little neighborhood evacuated. Even if I were to shelter in place, a minor storm can make the city’s main roads impassible by car. (Some of my neighbors use canoes and kayaks after the police cordon off the road.)
Traffic after an evacuation order is in place is about twice as bad as beach traffic on the first warm weekend of summer. A full tank of gas and a friend with a guest room can be all the disaster prep you need, but it’s hard to get out if you don’t leave early.
(2) Even if you might leave, prepare to stay.
A few cases of water and some granola bars can be awfully useful if work requirements prevent an early evacuation and the traffic piles up too much for you to be sure you could get where you’re going before the storm hits. A full propane tank for the grill or a bag of charcoal briquettes do a great job turning the meat in your freezer into a neighborhood BBQ after the power goes out. Sometimes the best hurricane parties are after the storm. Consider picking up a few limes and burger fixings while emptying the grocery store of bread and milk.
(3) Even if you intend to stay, be willing to leave.
While planning the hurricane party of the century, consider filling up the gas tank. Sometimes storms turn towards land instead of away. Sometimes they strengthen. While your heirs might appreciate the assorted fine beverages chilling in your ice-filled bathtub, that fast growing mold stormwater leaves behind is pretty disgusting and they'd probably rather you weren't dead. Also, if you must die, try not to be the Darwin award-winning type who stays behind after police ordered evacuation and gets rescue workers killed.
That is all. Have a pleasant 2016 Atlantic Hurricane Season. May your French toast be tasty and all your storms go out to sea.
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