Ricochet is the best place on the internet to discuss the issues of the day, either through commenting on posts or writing your own for our active and dynamic community in a fully moderated environment. In addition, the Ricochet Audio Network offers over 50 original podcasts with new episodes released every day.
Running from Irma
I’m not proud. If I’m outgunned, outmanned, or outmaneuvered, I’ll run away, reconsolidate, and go to Plan B. The important part is having a really good Plan B, even if you think Plan A was adorable (and a good C, D, E…). Tuesday morning, I looked at Irma, Irma’s track, and then my boss.
Me: I gotta go.
Boss: You gotta go.
Mid-afternoon Tuesday, I ditched work and hied home to Key Largo. I started battening down the house. Living in an idyllic, waterfront house with views that should both be on postcards and inspire Jimmy Buffet songs sounds great. Then you have to batten down and realize that every lawn chair, the grill, the kayaks that we keep on the boat ramp out of habit because it’s easy and when all the kids are home they love spotting the occasional pod of dolphins and running out to the kayaks, pushing off, and frolicking with them, all the patio furniture, everything, is a potential missile and must be brought indoors. Then you have to pack up the essentials (Mrs. Mongo packed our wedding album, which I found touching and romantic and told her so; Yeah, says she, I know. Keep packing.), clothes, chow for the dogs and particulars. Particulars in this case meaning weapons, ammo, whisky, and Copenhagen. Best way Plan A was going to work was us two, two cars, one dog in each car (I got the Big Dog; not as much fun in my sensible Nissan Altima as it would’ve been in my manly Dodge Ram pick ’em up truck), moving out and making our way to Orlando.
I know a guy, and got a rate. I told the lovely and talented Mrs. Mongo we’d be moving out at 0-dark thirty. Yeah, says she, no. Okay, I concede, we’re moving out at the crack of dawn. Well, says Mrs. Mongo, I thought I’d go to the hospital, check e-mails and make sure everything there is locked down, then come home in the afternoon and we’ll launch. Yeah, says I, no. We’re leaving in the morning. We left the Keys on Wednesday morning. “We left the Keys” sounds pretty expeditious, but it wasn’t. Traffic was already clogging up. Miami traffic was even more awful than usual, as everyone that was evacuating was on the FL Turnpike, and everyone that was going to work and would make decisions later was on the FL Turnpike.
We made it to Orlando. It’s usually a 4.5-hour road trip. It took us 9 hours. Since we’ve been ensconced here, Mrs. Mongo has gotten calls/texts/posts from her peeps (I’m a misanthrope. I don’t have peeps) lauding her for being prescient in getting out when we did. The Keys have been slammed: stalled/slow bumper-to-bumper traffic; no gasoline anywhere on the island. Mrs. Mongo has admitted unequivocally that I was right and she was wrong on our launch time. I’m being magnanimous about it. Okay, I’m aiming for magnanimous; pretty sure I’m just hitting insufferable
Governor Rick Scott waived all tolls on all roads in the state in order to encourage people to evacuate. Because my critical, possibly life-saving decision to go North hinged on ~$18-32 in toll fees. It was probably a good decision, but there were unintended consequences. All of the turnpike median service stations had long lines that extended out into the turnpike. We saw dozens of Florida Highway Patrol personnel at each service station, most likely to control traffic flow and keep people from beating each other to death over that miracle liquid, gasoline. Great. Except with all the tolls lifted and people that don’t usually drive on toll roads were zipping through 10-12 lane toll plazas at 55-65 miles an hour, totally oblivious to the fact that within 500 meters, the turnpike was going to choke back down to two lanes. There were accidents on the north side of almost every toll plaza. Maybe some FHP guys there instead of swarming at the service stations could have helped traffic keep moving. Maybe not.
We got to Orlando, checked in to the hotel. I downloaded the vehicles, walked the dogs, then hauled back south 159 miles to pick up my two college girls, and then turned north again to go back to Orlando. That sounds fugazzi, but it made sense when we were putting together Plan A, and the only person that had to suck it up was me, which is kind of what I do. Got the kids back and bundled into the rack and at about 0330 got my first real sleep in two days. Aaaand at 0700, the dogs were harassing me to get up and take them out. Do they harass the lovely and talented Mrs. Mongo? No. Do they harass my spoiled rotten kids who don’t do enough to pay their own freight or pull their own weight? No. It’s me. Sorry. That sounds like a snivel because it’s a snivel.
This morning was our decision point for determining whether to ride Irma out here or push north. We’re riding it out here. I talked to both the head of security and the maintenance chief this morning, and they recommended staying here. In fact, the hotel has made the offer to staff that they and their families can shelter here, and help with all the refugees inundating the place. By the way, the staff up and down the chain are just awesome, couldn’t be better. Let me do a grateful plug, here, and say that if you’re going to see Disney World, Sea World, Universal Studios, etc., etc., you can’t go wrong staying here. Truly outstanding people, and I don’t complement much or often.
We’ll get hurricane winds and rain, here, but no storm surge. I’d rather bet on this place and its outstanding staff than push north, betting in vain that all the vagaries and variables of the road will break my way.
Zeus, the Great Dane, is now a hotel celebrity, and I’ve gained some notoriety as “the Great Dane guy.” We are trying to empty the dogs out, before the storm hits, so we take the dogs out a lot. The fact that the multitudes of European stewardesses think Zeus is “the best dog evah, absolutely brilliant, darling” has nothing to do with it. I took a break writing this post to take the big dog out, and the coterie of British Airways stewardesses just completely fawned over him. Maybe they don’t have a lot of big dogs in Britain. When I came back up and related the story to the lovely and talented Mrs. Mongo, she said, “They’re probably not digging you wagging your tail, saying ‘Pet me too! Pet me too!'” Maybe, but I think it’s just that famous British reserve that keeps them from petting me, too.
I’ll check in now and again as appropriate/possible. Best wishes and prayers to everyone that has to ride madwoman Irma out. It’s going to suck, but we’ll get through it.
Published in General
The trouble is, NOAA has been wrong Every. Single. Day. They are literally having to change the track, by a LOT, every four hours because Irma don’t need no steekin computer models.
It could swing out in the Gulf and gain some real power, then curve east and slam into Tampa.
Keep a bag packed and the car full of gas, is all I’m saying.
In a just and rightly ordered universe, Mongo and Dave Carter would be editing America’s most useful, intelligent and influential magazines and websites. Yeah, and maybe with the help of a couple of other Ricochetti.
I don’t hate The Atlantic, or The New Yorker. I’m just saying that if you love thoughtful writing that cares about America’s future, and is good enough to last decades into that future, you’d want people this smart and insightful to run the country’s culture.
Even in 1947 this wouldn’t have sounded as hopeless as it does now. Hopeless is a word that means we have to get up off our a$$es and see to it that it does happen, if not in our time, in our children’s time.
I’m thinking of you and of all our Ricochet members in Texas and Florida. You’ve all been very much on my mind. Here’s an article from the Houston Chronicle about how to save flood-soaked photos. Sounds as if you won’t need it, but perhaps someone here might — if not now, someday. Always good to know.
This. I’m in Jacksonville. Go check out the path of Hurricane Donna in 1960. All my cars need to go is two humans and three cats. Bags and supplies are in the car. Keep watching this thing and be ready to go. Hope you have found a spot to land.
I was ready to go a couple of days ago, but the westward trend has been our friend. The eye of the storm will pass over my bugout spot in Alabama according to the 5AM forecast. Good luck to everybody else out there, especially the first responders.
I’m in Orlando, in a reinforced concrete block house that, I think, was engineered for the bad side of the Cold War. I’m only worried about possible broken windows, and not too worried at that.
On the other hand, if you’re going to shelter somewhere far from home, an Orlando hotel is a pretty good choice. Most of the ones built in the last 40 years or so are good, and some of the more-recent structures are impressive.
For that matter, hunkering down in the ballroom of a major hotel is a decent option. They’ll have food available, most of them have at least some backup power, and the roof structures are usually pretty strong, due to being designed to handle heavy vertical loads (for hanging lighting and sound equipment).
We’re sheltering in-place. Our house is two years old, built like a tank and our shutters are up. We’re well outside even the most extreme of the storm surge zones, so after the wind is done with us, we’ll be fine.
Looking at what’s happening in Key West right now, you guys definitely made the right choice. Stay safe, mi amigo.
Agreed. I got up this morning to the CNN.com headline: “Irma Slams Florida” in huge, capitalized font.
Um, not. I quickly checked sites and saw Naples with 24 MPH winds, and Fort Meyers with 20 MPH winds. Miami is having a normal day, so far.
Oh, I see now that CNN has refreshed their headline: “Irma’s eye reaches Florida” – they mean the Keys, of course. Irma has not reached Florida, but CNN stopped caring about truthfulness and accuracy a long time ago.
However, viewing the infrared radar it does look like things are picking up as the stronger easterly bands are moving into Florida proper. Best of luck to those who decided to “ride it out” as Fats Domino said before Katrina almost killed him.
Think of it less as “running from Irma” and more like “dodging wrenches”.
Be safe, Mongo.
Weather Channel has good coverage. Only downside is the idiots who think they must foolishly stand in the water and wind as if we won’t get it if they are under cover with rain scenes in background.
Boss, somehow you managed to take a stressful and exhausting situation and give it a light-hearted and smile-inducing touch. My son lives in Orlando, by the way. He and his family scurried up to the panhandle (what would normally take 5 hours to drive took 11 hours this time around). Glad you and all the other Mongos are tucked away safely. We’re praying you stay that way too.
Glad you made it up this way, Boss. I told ya I knew those danes were big babies; they know how to love people up, too. Sheesh.
Be safe and Jerry and I wish you the best.
Yabbut…
The latest radar shows Irma making her turn. Heading up the state now, not so far west.
Mongo, you shouldn’t have left her a forwarding address. She knows where you are.
How are you hanging in there?
Thanks for asking, E. We’re hangin’ in. The winds are picking up and so is the rain. I think we’ll survive all of that, although I’d hate to lose power. But it will be what it will be!
Also, I think the cell tower may be down, too. Will see if it comes back, but if the power goes off, it’ll be bye-bye for a while.
Thanks for the excellent sit rep Boss; clearly you made the right call.
Dave, any word from Alphonse regarding his return to duty with the Cajun Navy in the Houston theatre?
My prayers and best wishes go out to all of you Floridians facing the storm.
Boss:
You win the prize for the best decision of Irma. The Keys got trashed, but Orlando did not. You got out of the danger area, and picked what proved to be the minimum distance to travel to be safe and comfortable during the storm.
Kudos.
Seawriter
Insurance costs will not be nearly as high as predicted:
Ah, but where’s the article on saving a flood-soaked kilt?
So, Boss… I wrote a post on how it was massively overhyped.
If I lived on the Keys, I would have left, too, based on the media in advance.
But I am very curious to find out what actually happened and whether, in hindsight, you would have stayed.
@iwe, reports from the Keys say things are pretty rough. I’m not as informed as I’d like to be, but with what I know right now, I’m glad we left. I’ll take risks, but despise gambling. Risk defined as if you lose, you can still recover; gamble defined as if you lose, you cannot recover.
I’m itching to get back and return to some semblance of normalcy, but heading north was definitely the right thing.
Love your definition of risk vs gamble Boss. Wisdom.
Howdy, Boss! Prayers ongoing for the path ahead…How are you at amphibious landings? (Stellar, of course!) Panda Hugs!
Let us know how it shakes out Boss and be careful down there; it’s pretty messy.