October 13, 2004

• 1 & 2 (the rest will follow)
  hurricane frances.

  if i remember correctly, hurricane frances made landfall at about 2:00 am. we had been getting rain and increasing stronger winds and gusts starting about 2 or 3 pm. so, almost 12 hours from the outermost feeder bands until the hurricane force winds and eye wall. she was huge and moving slow. 8 - 12mph forward motion. only a little faster than the average walking speed. i had slept during the day as much as possible, knowing it would be better to be awake and prepared during the night hours. unfortunately, i was right.
  after a few hours of flickering on and off, the power goes out at 10:30pm. nothing to do but listen to the radio and wait.
  i guess it was around 1:00am the first time i heard it;
  THUNK THUNK WHAM
  i looked up at the celing, not know what it was. the sound, something like a workboot in the clothes dryer. this, over the constant freight-train whistle of 73+/- mph sustained winds whipping past eaves and through fences. rain pelted into the house hard enough to sound like hail. the air warm and dead-still inside the house. it happened again. and again. and again, in shorter intervals. it's debris from somewhere, hitting and skittering across the roof.
  WHAM
  the only thing for me to do is to sit on the couch, listen to the radio and be patient. surrounded by the maelstrom, safe inside the dead air.
  the sustained wind wasn't so bad, it's the gusting. sometimes you could hear them coming, a building whooshing sound. most of the time you didn't. WHAM THUNK
  a small sound reached my ears. a spattering sound. i bit my fingernail and tilted my head, trying to hear it, where it was. the dining room. i see water dripping from the hanging lamp and onto the table. i pointed the light up at the ceiling and see a dark grey damp spot surround the fixture in the ceiling. the roof is leaking and water is coming into the house. with the flash light, i check the rest of the house. damp spots in the 2 master bedrooms, the office, the living room and the dining room. with eyes looking elsewhere, i listen for the telltale drips and spatters. every 10 or 15 minutes, i make the rounds, checking the leaks. they getting bigger. metallic plinks and plonks into the 4 pans on the dining room table. i find another, from the frame around the sliding glass door. water is almost flowing from it. the plaster is cracked and saturated, the aluminum framing is pulling away from the wood. i throw down a few towels and the garbage can to catch the water, and head to the garage to flip the main breaker off. as i'm walking into the garage, i jump from a sudden crash behind me. pointing the flashlight, i see what it is. the curtain rod had fallen from the window in the living room. i walk over to see why. the dry wall was saturated. the screws had easily pulled out of the gypsum mud that the walls were becoming. water flowed and dripped from the frame around the window, and out of the screw holes. i went back to the garage and hit the breaker, then made my rounds again. the water had seeped in to the point that the seams between the drywall in the ceiling was clearly visible. things were falling out of the walls. my house was fucking melting. so i made the decision not to stay. i woke my mother, sleeping in one of the guestrooms. quickly and quietly i explained what was happening. she didn't want to leave. i further explained that there was a very real possibility that the ceiling would collapse, and i'd rather not be here if it did, so start putting garbage bags over everything, 'cause we're going to erin's. everything was covered by, or emptied into garbage bags and put somewhere safe. i grabbed the imac and put it in a garbage bag by the front door. everything we were taking with us, put it by the door i had said. titles, deeds, registrations, the computer, clothes. i grabbed my cat and had to stuff him into his carry bag. he was yowling and crying, scared shitless. my moms dog leashed, restless and baying.
  time to throw everything into the cars and go.
  this is not fun.
  there are no lights.
  pitch black.
  i couldn't tell.
  if i was about to.
  get hit.
  by debris.
  the rain stung and needled my face and arms. something between acupuncture and sandpaper.
  there could be a terra cotta roof tile whipping at my face this very second, 70mph, as i'm putting the computer into my back seat.
  this is nerve wracking. this is not fun.
  soaking wet and all loaded up, i'm ready to go. i'm in the lead, mom following in her car. i decide to go the shorter route. less time spent out in the open is less time for something bad to happen. it's about 1/3 of a mile to erin's. halfway down the block, the water is deep enough to cover my headlights. a little less than halfway to erin's house, it's coming up over the hood of my car. let me describe this again; it's pitch black (no street lights, the power is out everywhere), 70+ mph winds, the water in the road was deep enough to start coming up over the hood of my car (3+ ft). i couldn't see anything aside from the silver streaks of rain and the wavering yellowish light from headlights underwater. making a right turn a little too early put me into the edge of the corner house's lawn. my car is stuck in the super saturated mud of the lawn. it won't budge. waving and screaming at the top of my voice, i dirct my mom to try to shove my car out with hers. it's a no go. i decide to leave it. at this moment, shelter is more important. back out into the wind and rain, ankle deep in muck and knee deep in water, i moved my stuff to her car.
  this is not fun.
  that was about a month ago. it still isn't fun.
  as a side note, the thunking across the roof i heard?
  it was shingles from my house being ripped up and blown across the roof. about 50%, the entire south side of my house, had no shingles by 4am that sunday.

  • 12:45 am
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