Hurricane Season is No Laughing Matter!

 

It’s June. Hurricane season has officially begun, and lasts through November 30^th. As a native Floridian, I’ve lived through countless hurricane seasons—some mild and others downright scary.

Hurricanes aren’t a laughing matter, but a little humor does help. Today’s blog is about the dark side, the humorist side, and personal experiences of hurricanes.

On the dark side. Eons ago, my aunt’s first husband was an Air Force hurricane hunter. He and his crew’s job were to fly a specially equipped aircraft directly into the eye of the storm to collect crucial data that would help protect lives and property. He was stationed in the Caribbean. By the time he and his crew were in the air, the hurricane had already reach category 4 status. Sadly, this was his final mission. The aircraft, and the eleven people aboard disappeared and were never found. Very little was ever learned about the crash. My aunt had to wait seven years before she could declare her husband legally dead.

On the humorist side. Well, maybe not, especially if you’re afraid of snakes. This tidbit was taken from the Miami New Times.  “Hurricane Andrew released invasive pythons into the Everglades, thus permanently screwing up the state's already dumb ecosystem:
The Burmese python has become the national poster child for the [invasive species] problem. The snakes were first spotted in the wild as early as the 1980s, but many observers believe the current crop haunting the Everglades was tossed into the area during Hurricane Andrew. Florida Fish and Wildlife Conservation Commission Officer Pat Reynolds was on the wildlife beat in 1992 when the Category 5 storm tore through South Florida. After the hurricane, Reynolds went to check on an animal importer in the area who was known for his faulty cages.

Inside a greenhouse near Homestead General Airport, the two owners had been using shelves meant for growing orchids to store their animals, including pricey pythons. "They put all of their reptiles on there in these Dixie cup things," says Reynolds, who retired in 2011. "There were little baby pythons — real colorful when they're that young — and they could stuff 'em in a little container and put the top on it."

When the storm whipped through, off went the snakes.

"Andrew comes, blew that place apart. All of those containers just flew out like Frisbees," Reynolds says. "The direction of the wind was into Everglades National Park — the park boundaries were less than a half-mile from there. So, all these animals blew in there. That's where the pythons came from."

My Personal Experience. Some years ago, hubby and I, along with several members of our travel group, were at a Guest Ranch. We were looking forward to some horseback riding, and the Saturday night rodeo. A beautiful weekend turned into an unexpected and very wet adventure. It began to rain Friday night. Saturday morning, we awoke to about an inch of water in our hotel room. We contacted our tour leader and was assured that management was aware that the bottom floor rooms were being flooded. She told us that we would be moved to a second story room; to place our luggage on the bed, and not to worry, that someone in an ATV would pick us up and drive us to the resort restaurant. While enjoying our breakfast, the rain became a raging storm. We had barely finished eating when my cellphone rang. Our tour host called to say that due to a hurricane and flooding from the Kissimmee River, the ranch was being evacuated. I asked if someone was coming to drive us to where our tour motorcoach was parked. The answer was, “yes.”

After waiting for twenty minutes, and several phone exchanges with our tour host, it was determined that the water had risen to the point that the ATV’s couldn’t get to us. Hubby and I pulled off our shoes and began walking. When we left the restaurant, the water had already risen to my knees. At some point during our half-mile swim-hike, hubby had to hold on to me to keep the current from sweeping me away. I’m a fairly good swimmer, however, the rushing waters were more forceful than I was strong.

I have to tell you that I wasn’t as afraid of drowning as I was being an appetizer for a wayward alligator. By this time, I was standing on my tippy-toes because the water was now up to my chin. I kept praying, “Lord, keep the gators away.”

 I breathed a huge sigh of relief when we were finally close enough to spot the red and white motorcoach. By now, the water was up to hubby’s chest, and up to my eyeballs. I could no longer touch bottom. It was a struggle to get to where the big bus was parked on a small hill. A hotel staffer handed us a towel. We were drenched to the bone and one towel between us didn’t make a dent in our soppin’ wet clothes. I said, “I’m glad we didn’t meet any gators.”

The staffer’s reply was, “Oh, it’s not gators you needed to worry about. It’s moccasins. The swamp is filled with ‘em.”

I was already shivering from being wet and cold, but his words caused goosebumps to multiply all over my body.

As soon as we boarded the coach, our tour host did a head count to make sure no one was missing. We were barely in our seats when the driver headed down the long dirt road toward the main highway. We could see ranch hands desperately trying to get the cattle and horses to higher ground. The water had risen so fast that the tops of the fence post were no longer visible, and the road had completely disappeared.

No one spoke. We watched the windshield wipers doing double time as buckets of water splashed against the windshield practically obliterating the driver’s visibility. There was a collective sigh of relief when we finally made it to the highway. Still, no one spoke. I think we were all silently sending up prayers of gratitude to our Lord and Savior for watching over us.

The next day, we learned that our motorcoach was the last vehicle to get out. The road had collapsed and became impassable. The owners of the ranch refunded a goodly portion of our money, and with an invitation to return as soon as they were able to reopen.

Over the years, hubby and I have had many hurricane experiences. I never look forward this time of year, but I always make sure to be prepared for any emergences, because we never know if we might lose power for a few days or even up to a week.

Hurricane season is no laughing matter. For those of you, dear readers, who live in hurricane prone states, be prepared, and be safe.

Until we meet again...HAPPY READING!