It's That Most Horrible Time of the Year

My close family and friends always make fun of how much I love Miami. Wifey always says I ought to work for the Chamber of Commerce, as I know so much about the place and savor so much about living here. Well, there is one thing I really can't stand -- and that's this time of the year -- "peak" hurricane season. First of all, getting hit by a tropical cyclone is bad. We went through Andrew 23 years ago this week, and it was one of the scariest nights of our lives. Had Wifey and I been alone, it would have been less so, but we were responsible for a 3 year old, and 6 month old, and 70 something mother, and the thought that roofs would collapse on everyone was very sobering. Katrina and Wilma were more of an annoyance. Katrina just rained a lot, and left us without electric for a few weeks, but we decamped to the Mayfair Hotel in the Grove and turned it into a vacation. Wilma's surprisingly strong winds loosened all my roof tiles -- costing me a $4000 repair bill, but was also not too bad -- Wifey and the Ds decamped to Atlanta for a Halloween time there, and I enjoyed the glorious cold front that followed Wilma. As my friend Norman's son Benji pointed out last night, as we were reminiscing about storms -- it was one of the few times you could see and enjoy the stars in a Miami night sky... But the hype is the worst. We haven't actually been hit in 10 years, and the media clearly is angered by that. When fear of these things gins up, more people buy papers and watch the news, so ratings soar and it means more money for the media. Right now, there's a storm called Erica East of Puerto Rico, and we're currenctly in the Cone of Death, as I call it in a not to the absurdity. If Erica strengthens, the lines will form at the gas stations, and the folks will flock t Home Depots. This is actually good for us, as we're substantial HD shareholders... My directive to my family is simple: during storm season, gas tanks must always remain near filled. This is in case another Andrew is truly looming -- we will high tail it out of here, and I don't want to have to wait on an hours long line to do it. But the thought of escape is daunting -- Wifey has to deal with her wildly annoying mother, although her Dad will be ok in the nursing home -- he's THEIR responsibility now. So the hype is in the air, and I really don't enjoy it, along with the high heat and humidity of a Miami August. D2 is set to leave for NYC a week from this Saturday. I told her the first time she steps off the curb into filthy ice water mixed with dog crap, she'll miss storm season. I guess I have to keep that perspective on the downside of living in the tropics as well.