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Friday, September 22, 2017

Irmapocolypse and its Aftermath

I'll be the first to admit to some post-Irma-traumatic-hysteria.  But before I get to that I want to address the pre-Irma-hysteria that occurred prior to the largest, most powerful Atlantic storm on record. I would say that a lot of it was ginned up by the Mass Social Media Hysteria Complex that exists in this country.

My corporate headquarters is in a quaint office park squeezed between the Everglades, some mcmansions and a golf course in northwest Broward county.  Several of my co-workers,  who had never been in a hurricane before basically broke down in tears....on Tuesday....almost 5 days before the storm....more than 35 miles from the coast.  It's like somebody told them they had 5 days to live. I blame the Mass Social Media Hysteria Complex that exists in this country.  If you are so so hysterical that you can't find a rock to hide under, a tank of gas, a couple of gallons of water and five days of junk food, five days before a storm you really need to move to Brazil where there are basically no natural disasters.

By Wednesday the hysteria was peaked that people were hauling ass to South Carolina, I had a friend flee to Missouri. Driving 20 hours to be "safe".  If you need to drive 20 hours away you could just as well find a shelter and spend 40 hours there...I mean 20 hours driving in a car and 20 hours back or sitting in a high school gymnasium is about the same level of discomfort.  Of course well heeled evacuees could always stay in of thousands of hotels that exist in the Orlando area. But hey, the media said that this was basically an Irmapocolypse so yeah, get the fuck out while you can. 

As usual the Mass Social Media Hysteria Complex got a lot of it wrong. Storm was a category 3, which while bad, is not "flee to Missouri" bad. I've been to St. Louis and upon reflection, a high school gymnasium with cots doesn't seem so bad. Most Native Floridians would settle in for a gathering of friends in a safe house and get drunk for a cat 3 storm because sobriety is not necessary for the big bad cat 3 storm blowing palm fronds against your lanai and screened in pool.

The Aftermath.  As with any apocalypse, the Irmapocalypse is about getting back to normal. I'm not ashamed to say that two nights in September without power is my limit.  Tears and wishing for death crossed my mind as the humidity pressed on me throughout the day and night.  Endless showering and changes of underwear. The inability to wash clothes, cook food, have a cold rum and coke finally broke me. In my delirium I evacuated to a  friend's luxury condo on South Beach that had electricity and A/C but no internet.

Internet/Cable deprivation syndrome.  I realize the whole system is rigged, we are force dependent on our cable companies and internet service providers. I actually have an HD antenna hooked up to my TV.   The signal was pretty crappy and it made me rethink my commitment to PBS since that was the only signal that worked...it has a very sad show lineup. Masterpiece Theater is nothing without Downton Abbey. My internet is connected to core functions of my home: A/C, security system, entertainment, porn.  All almost unavailable without an internet signal.  Thank god for my mobile phone, but even that had some spotty connections and even delayed my cries for pity on Facebook. 

But all is good again and lessons learned will soon be forgot. The Irmapocolypse is now just two weeks of our lives that reminds us of the price of living in paradise. 



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