September 03, 2008

Hurricane Survival

Poor Shank. He's stuck inside Hanna's cone. I tell ya what...it's not so much fun being stuck inside a cone.
There's all of this uncertainty. It will drive you crazy.
Shank asked if I had any survival tips. Well...the last time I experience a REAL hurricane was back in 1983. I was......young and her name was Alicia.
We did evacuate but we came back to unrecognizable neighborhoods. Our houses were still standing but there were trees and debris everywhere.
The power was out and would be out for nearly a week.
Oh and it was HOT. It was Africa hot and no power, which means: No Air Conditioner. The heat was so bad that we all took turns taking cold baths.
We started an extensive clean-up effort but we were overpowered by ants. There were ants EVERYWHERE. They clung to pine needles and tree limbs.
All you had to do was pick up one fallen branch and you were covered in ants.


It was like the old pioneer days out there. At night, when the sun went down, your day was over. I was a voracious reader even then and I loved to read in bed. Without electricity, I was forced to read by kerosene lamp.
Apparently, I wasn't a very bright child because I put my kerosene lamp on my bedside table, directly under my (now useless) electric lamp and quickly caught the lamp shade on fire.
There was a lot of screaming and excitement but luckily the fire was small and my parents put it out pretty fast.

I remember my mother and I standing in line for ice. Ice was a bigger commodity than water or toilet paper.
We would get word that a truck load of ice would be coming to the local convenience store so we would rush down there and get in line.
It was like communist Russia, standing in line for the most basic of necessities.

So, what am I trying to say to Shank?

1. If you leave, stay gone. Who wants to come home to a mess?
2. Who needs ice? Drink your liquor neat.
3. Reading books is dangerous. Don't do it.
4. If you're drunk enough, you won't care about the heat.
5. Don't bother cleaning up, you'll just hurt yourself.

There. That's all you need to know about surviving a hurricane.
Glad I could help.

Posted by De at September 3, 2008 09:39 AM | TrackBack
Comments

Ants are little bastard sons of bitches. All the ants here are fire ants too, which makes them doubleplus bastard sons of bitches. I think you're allowed to hunt them with flame-throwers or weapons-grade uranium in our county. I'll have to check the regs.

Posted by: shank at September 3, 2008 10:59 AM