Beer Commissioner Speaks on Evacuating
If you are a regular reader of my blog, that isn't related to me, YOU know who YOU are, YOU know that I live in New Orleans. As a way of life in New Orleans, whenever there is an atmospheric disturbance in the Gulf of Mexico, we need to load up the car and RUN AWAY!
If you've never had the pleasure of evacuating for a hurricane, let me tell you the fun you are missing.
There are basically three major strategies for evacuating. Please note, I'm not discussing the strategy of STAYING, as STAYING isn't evacuating, but for reasons discussed below, has to be much better than evacuating.
Strategy #1 is for the anal-retentive, highly planned evacuee. This person has a healthy fear of hurricanes, a healthy dislike for sitting in traffic for 20 hours to drive 200 miles, and has a pre-planned place of evacuation. This person generally leaves town at the first talk of, "you are in the cone of danger". When the politicians start talking about we will have mandatory evacuations in 48 hours, you are taking pictures off the wall and carrying them upstairs. When the emergency officials start talking mandatory evacuations in 36 hours, your car is gassed up and you empty your freezer. When emergency officials say, we are closing all government offices and schools tomorrow, you are in the car headed out of town.
Strategy #2 is for married couples and persons living with denial. In these situations, the guy never wants to leave. Emergency officials are on tv telling everyone they will die if they stay in town. At this point, the wives have nagged the guys into leaving, so you get on the road with everyone else, and you sit in traffic for 20 hours to get 200 miles out of town. So, you are sitting in traffic with all the other married couples, and the other people who really thought Santa and has sleigh were going to bring a magical cold front down from the North Pole to drive the evil hurricane into Mexico. The people utilizing strategy #2, do get to experience certain joys of life that others do not. If, on the off chance you get your car up to 30 miles per hour, you get the opportunity to suddenly stop at a dead standstill for 2 hours. You later find out, it was because of the rubber-neckers in front of you were so fascinated with the car with the flat tire on the side of the road. Amazing stuff, really.
The persons utilizing Strategy #3 are both smart, and what I will call true-believers. By this time, Jim Cantore is in your front yard broadcasting for the weather channel. Anderson Cooper just knocked on your door wondering why you haven't left. Your neighbor's roof has blown off. Yet, you have hope Santa is still going to bring that cold front. Jim Cantore crushes your dreams. You now know the storm is here. But, alas, you are the last smart guy in town. You get in your car, and you leave, because there is no traffic on the road. The police aren't on the road either, as their cars are locked up trying to avoid your neighbor's roof. So, you now have the interstate to yourself with no fear of getting a speeding ticket. You make the 400 mile drive from New Orleans to Houston in 17 minutes. You actually get to eat authentic Mexican food, still get to drink cold beer, and you got Jim Cantore's autograph. Not too bad.
So, assume, you are like the Commissioner and you evacuated North, where the hurricane went after it was finished being a hurricane. On that chance, you get to drive home in a driving rain storm. Somewhere in BF Arkansas, on a road with more curves than Jane Mansfield, the Deputy Commissioner states from the back seat, "daddy, I'm sick". The next thing you know, your neck is getting pelted with projectile vomit. It is pouring down rain outside. You have been in the car for 12 hours, and you have to unpack the entire car to get to the suitcase so you can give the little deputy a change of clothes. Mrs. Commissioner suggests stopping at a hotel to get some sleep, because I'm just too damn cranky. We find the last room in Arkansas, but of course, its in a dry county. No beer, still stinking of vomit, and going to bed knowing I still have 9 hours to drive in the morning.
My dear friends, you just can't beat that kind of fun.
If you've never had the pleasure of evacuating for a hurricane, let me tell you the fun you are missing.
There are basically three major strategies for evacuating. Please note, I'm not discussing the strategy of STAYING, as STAYING isn't evacuating, but for reasons discussed below, has to be much better than evacuating.
Strategy #1 is for the anal-retentive, highly planned evacuee. This person has a healthy fear of hurricanes, a healthy dislike for sitting in traffic for 20 hours to drive 200 miles, and has a pre-planned place of evacuation. This person generally leaves town at the first talk of, "you are in the cone of danger". When the politicians start talking about we will have mandatory evacuations in 48 hours, you are taking pictures off the wall and carrying them upstairs. When the emergency officials start talking mandatory evacuations in 36 hours, your car is gassed up and you empty your freezer. When emergency officials say, we are closing all government offices and schools tomorrow, you are in the car headed out of town.
Strategy #2 is for married couples and persons living with denial. In these situations, the guy never wants to leave. Emergency officials are on tv telling everyone they will die if they stay in town. At this point, the wives have nagged the guys into leaving, so you get on the road with everyone else, and you sit in traffic for 20 hours to get 200 miles out of town. So, you are sitting in traffic with all the other married couples, and the other people who really thought Santa and has sleigh were going to bring a magical cold front down from the North Pole to drive the evil hurricane into Mexico. The people utilizing strategy #2, do get to experience certain joys of life that others do not. If, on the off chance you get your car up to 30 miles per hour, you get the opportunity to suddenly stop at a dead standstill for 2 hours. You later find out, it was because of the rubber-neckers in front of you were so fascinated with the car with the flat tire on the side of the road. Amazing stuff, really.
The persons utilizing Strategy #3 are both smart, and what I will call true-believers. By this time, Jim Cantore is in your front yard broadcasting for the weather channel. Anderson Cooper just knocked on your door wondering why you haven't left. Your neighbor's roof has blown off. Yet, you have hope Santa is still going to bring that cold front. Jim Cantore crushes your dreams. You now know the storm is here. But, alas, you are the last smart guy in town. You get in your car, and you leave, because there is no traffic on the road. The police aren't on the road either, as their cars are locked up trying to avoid your neighbor's roof. So, you now have the interstate to yourself with no fear of getting a speeding ticket. You make the 400 mile drive from New Orleans to Houston in 17 minutes. You actually get to eat authentic Mexican food, still get to drink cold beer, and you got Jim Cantore's autograph. Not too bad.
So, assume, you are like the Commissioner and you evacuated North, where the hurricane went after it was finished being a hurricane. On that chance, you get to drive home in a driving rain storm. Somewhere in BF Arkansas, on a road with more curves than Jane Mansfield, the Deputy Commissioner states from the back seat, "daddy, I'm sick". The next thing you know, your neck is getting pelted with projectile vomit. It is pouring down rain outside. You have been in the car for 12 hours, and you have to unpack the entire car to get to the suitcase so you can give the little deputy a change of clothes. Mrs. Commissioner suggests stopping at a hotel to get some sleep, because I'm just too damn cranky. We find the last room in Arkansas, but of course, its in a dry county. No beer, still stinking of vomit, and going to bed knowing I still have 9 hours to drive in the morning.
My dear friends, you just can't beat that kind of fun.
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