Category Twelve Hurricane To Hit Florida THIS AFTERNOON

Florida. Palm-frond ballet. Hypnotic toad symphonies. The therapy of ancient swells whetting the seductive appetites of a thousand miles of sandy shoreline.

You see, if you set aside the many-numbered evidences of why this death-ferry waystation is deserving of worldwide condemnation…there are some pretty great things about living in Florida.

Namely: winters. I don’t have to use an ice scraper. That confuses me: why you Northerners insist on maintaining residency in a place where such barbarism is necessary.

But would you like to know the very best thing about living in Florida? The thing for which we Floridians await with baited breath, our hides turning to leather on our lunch breaks? The thing we discuss between declarations of ‘this is paradise’, ankle-deep in the spot where the sandbar spills into the shore, a spot we like to think of as the front row of our own personal horizon theater?

(video credit: WTXL ABC)


***My apologies to anyone who’s suffered greatly because of a hurricane. I write with a heaping spoonful of humor on behalf of those who have not***

There is nothing Floridians love more than to speculate upon the magnitude of destruction that THIS hurricane season is SURE to bestow upon our trembling peninsula, as vulnerable as a newborn on the front line of oncoming apocalypse. We love to reminisce about past brushes with storm-death, about the  neighborhoods that perished. To talk about the neighborhoods certain to perish in our immediate future.

And oh, the media. Yes, it’s explosive, but it doesn’t have to be. A storm expert can say, on live TV, ‘There is no evidence whatsoever that Florida will have a bad 2014 hurricane season.’ What we–and newscasters–hear and report repeatedly, is, ‘This will be the worst hurricane season in the history of Florida disaster. We must prepare immediately.’

(video credit: ABC action news)

And so we watch the news like NASA’s prepping for a meet-and-greet with an approaching Martian aircraft, we stock up on D batteries that we’ll never use for anything, and we wait. And we drink. And we secretly hope we’ll have to evacuate.