“A Category 5 hurricane is forming off the Gulf of Mexico, heading towards Tampa, Florida.”
Those are NOT words you want to hear during your first six months as a Florida resident, particularly as an uninitiated California native — a nervous hurricane virgin, if you will. I’m much more accustomed to the opposite coast and its threat of earthquakes, and to that age-old debate that gauges people’s preferences for and fear of two very different natural disasters.
At first, I really wasn’t too worried. I was keeping an eye on the storm, checking windy.com or Google Maps for our pal Milton’s latest trajectory. But when NAS Key West started sending hurricane preparation guides to its military and civilian residents on base, well, it became a bit more real. Tips like, “Fill your bathtub, trash cans and Tupperware containers with water,” certainly started to put things in perspective.
I needed a distraction, so I asked my buddy, Marco, if he wanted to hit the gym. His reply did not help my state of mind.
“Hey, bro, I’m on my way to Publix, stocking up for the hurricane. I’m probably going to get a generator, too,” he replied.
That’s when I realized my hurricane prep might not be up to par. After a bit more back-and-forth with my semi-prepper friend, I convinced him we had time to squeeze in a workout. But on our way to the gym, his concern became contagious.
Am I doing enough? Sure, I have extra water, plenty of food and a propane grill if the power goes out.
But then I became glued to my phone, checking trajectory maps and news updates every few minutes. The latest predictions showed Milton’s outer bands grazing Key West. That was good, right? Or wait — how bad is it if a Category 5 hurricane grazes a place at sea level that’s already prone to flooding?
“Oh well,” I told my friend, “If we die, we die with a pump.”
We walked into the Boca Chica Fitness Center, where, to my surprise, it was business as usual. The place was packed. I ran into a few buddies who’d been in Florida much longer than I. I assumed they might share some of my concern.
“Man, it’s just some wind and water,” one of them shrugged. “You might even see a mini tornado touch down. It’s super cool.”
All these conversations ended the same way: “First hurricane, huh?”
Yes, it was my first hurricane. When Hurricane Helene passed through, I was conveniently in Los Angeles with my fiancée while she was shopping for a wedding dress. But that now-familiar, “First hurricane?” response made me realize how resilient — or maybe just plain crazy — the Florida spirit is. Facing down a monster storm as if it’s just another Tuesday is something one only learns by living here, and living through such threats — and some potential impacts.
As the week progressed and Milton’s path veered farther from the Keys, my nerves eased a bit. But my relief was tempered by concern for the less fortunate folks who were in the line of fire, the ones who either evacuated or hunkered down hoping for the best.
Hurricanes are terrifying, whether you’re from the West Coast or the East. The damage they cause is immense, and they often disproportionately affect the elderly, the sick, the poor, the homeless and others without the means or ability to evacuate quickly or safely.
So, yeah, in answer to that eternal debate, I’ll take earthquakes any day. But I guess it’s all about what you’re used to. I personally prefer my skies clear, my ocean calm and just a slight breeze. Still, I hope in time to develop some of that Florida resilience — crazy as it seems to me now.
