Monday – Pssst! Eddie!
Aug. 4th, 2008 03:38 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ninanevermore.
.
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Today on my drive into work, I was thinking, "There's a hurricane heading this way? Really? Since when?"
Actually, at this moment, I have a tropical storm headed for me, but it's an ambitious one that may upgrade before it makes landfall. Named storms have a way of appearing out of nowhere in the Gulf of Mexico, which is just what this one, called Edouard, did. When I turned on the radio in my car this morning, it was the first I'd heard of him, but it was in the context of hearing local officials use terms like "hunker down" and "Turn around, don't drown."
You hear that last phrase from the folks on TV and the radio a lot in Houston during hurricane season. Without fail, whenever we have flooding in this town a few people of otherwise normal intelligence spot what looks like a big puddle in the road and think, "That doesn't look too deep, I bet I can make it," only to figure out a little too late they were not just wrong, but dead wrong.
Right now, the skies are calm. The only clouds are big fluffy white ones that aren't the least bit threatening.
Houston hasn't had a direct hit from a hurricane since Alicia in 1983. I was 13 years old at the time, and very disappointed that my family was on vacation and I missed all of the excitement. We came home a week later to a house that still has no electricity, and I will never forget passing by downtown Houston and seeing the skyscrapers with windows busted out. Alicia was a Category 3 storm, much bigger than Edouard will be. Still, he has the potential to cause some havoc.
Back in 1983, I remember my father making the comment that hurricanes are exciting when you're a kid, but they aren't anything to look forward to once you are an adult who will have to foot the bill for a damaged room and downed trees on your car. Turns out, he was right. Now that I own a house, I'm not the least bit excited at the idea of 75 mile per hour winds pummeling it.
Two years ago, when Rita was bearing down on Houston, I wished she would head up the coast to Beaumont, Texas, because I've never liked that town all that much, any way. I don't have anything against the people of Beaumont, I just find the city in general kind of lacking. Lo and behold, Rita took a turn and Beaumont got the brunt of her. No one was more surprised than I to learn that I have the power to commutate with hurricanes and that they listen to me.
I admit to feeling a little guilty for wishing that on the good people of Beaumont after things turned out the way they did. I don't, however, feel so guilty about it that I won't wish it again on them this time.
Since storms in the Gulf listen to me, I have a message for Edouard:
Eddie, if you're listening, I heard the mayor of Beaumont say that you are just a wimpy little tropical storm and that they aren't afraid of you at all. I also heard her say that your mama, Mother Nature, is a big fat stupid slut who is so ugly that when she sits in the sand on the beach, cats try to bury her. It's true. Meanwhile, down here in Houston, we've been nothing but respectful about you. I think you should leave us alone and head on up to Beaumont to give them a piece of your mind.
Just don't tell them I sent you.
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * # * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~
.
.
Today on my drive into work, I was thinking, "There's a hurricane heading this way? Really? Since when?"
Actually, at this moment, I have a tropical storm headed for me, but it's an ambitious one that may upgrade before it makes landfall. Named storms have a way of appearing out of nowhere in the Gulf of Mexico, which is just what this one, called Edouard, did. When I turned on the radio in my car this morning, it was the first I'd heard of him, but it was in the context of hearing local officials use terms like "hunker down" and "Turn around, don't drown."
You hear that last phrase from the folks on TV and the radio a lot in Houston during hurricane season. Without fail, whenever we have flooding in this town a few people of otherwise normal intelligence spot what looks like a big puddle in the road and think, "That doesn't look too deep, I bet I can make it," only to figure out a little too late they were not just wrong, but dead wrong.
Right now, the skies are calm. The only clouds are big fluffy white ones that aren't the least bit threatening.
Houston hasn't had a direct hit from a hurricane since Alicia in 1983. I was 13 years old at the time, and very disappointed that my family was on vacation and I missed all of the excitement. We came home a week later to a house that still has no electricity, and I will never forget passing by downtown Houston and seeing the skyscrapers with windows busted out. Alicia was a Category 3 storm, much bigger than Edouard will be. Still, he has the potential to cause some havoc.
Back in 1983, I remember my father making the comment that hurricanes are exciting when you're a kid, but they aren't anything to look forward to once you are an adult who will have to foot the bill for a damaged room and downed trees on your car. Turns out, he was right. Now that I own a house, I'm not the least bit excited at the idea of 75 mile per hour winds pummeling it.
Two years ago, when Rita was bearing down on Houston, I wished she would head up the coast to Beaumont, Texas, because I've never liked that town all that much, any way. I don't have anything against the people of Beaumont, I just find the city in general kind of lacking. Lo and behold, Rita took a turn and Beaumont got the brunt of her. No one was more surprised than I to learn that I have the power to commutate with hurricanes and that they listen to me.
I admit to feeling a little guilty for wishing that on the good people of Beaumont after things turned out the way they did. I don't, however, feel so guilty about it that I won't wish it again on them this time.
Since storms in the Gulf listen to me, I have a message for Edouard:
Eddie, if you're listening, I heard the mayor of Beaumont say that you are just a wimpy little tropical storm and that they aren't afraid of you at all. I also heard her say that your mama, Mother Nature, is a big fat stupid slut who is so ugly that when she sits in the sand on the beach, cats try to bury her. It's true. Meanwhile, down here in Houston, we've been nothing but respectful about you. I think you should leave us alone and head on up to Beaumont to give them a piece of your mind.
Just don't tell them I sent you.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2008-08-05 01:41 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-08-05 02:26 pm (UTC)Look, I don't have any issues with the people of Beaumont, but the town itself is just kind of, I dunno, icky. When I sent Rita that way, I forgot that my husband's niece and her her family lived in that area (to preserved family peace, I haven't told them it was my fault).
I suggest your kinsfolk move to another community, because I will continue to send any storm that threatens Houston to their area. Did Aly ever mention that according to our family tree, she and I are direct descendants of the Norse god Odin? It could explain why I have some pull in this arena. ;)
You can give your relatives my email address if they want to complain, but please don't tell them where I live.
no subject
Date: 2008-08-05 06:38 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-08-05 07:05 pm (UTC)Parts of Houston are v beautiful (driving in on any of the freeways, you won't see this, but it's true). We have great food, lots to do, and we're quirky enough to host an annual art car parade and revere the Beer Can House as the work of folk art that it actually is. Did I mention the people (such as yours truly) are really nice, too?
If I had to come up with a motto for this town it would be: "Houston; it's nowhere near as bad as you've heard!"