Apparently all of my Jim Cantore taunts toward the hurricanes last week were not appreciated, as one of the storm systems decided to offer a little retribution. Despite being at least a nine-day drive from any ocean, Louisville was hit with some of Hurricane Ike’s wind gusts a day after it made landfall, knocking out trees and most of the city’s power. I am now on hour number 121 without electricity.
This means, like every personal matter I tend to, I typed this at work. Even if I had power, I’d still probably have typed this at work, but only after paying some bills, checking my e-mail, checking my fantasy baseball stats, napping, shaving and doing some laundry.
The point is, even if I wanted to do all of those things at home, I couldn’t (except for napping). And it’s not looking like I’ll be able to anytime soon. Local news outlets are reporting that power is slowly being restored by LG&E, which, for those of you who don’t live in this area, stands for “Oh Is Your Power Out? Sucks To Be You.”
When it became apparent that this was not for the short term, I tried telling myself that not having power would be fun because it would be like camping. Then I remembered that camping sucks. Know why? No electricity.
And sleeping indoors without power is even worse than sleeping outdoors because at least while you’re outdoors, you don’t have electricity cruelly taunting you with its nearby light switches, televisions and refrigerators. After five power-free days, I still instinctively flip on the light switch every time I walk into a room, only to hear the switch laugh at me.
“Bwaa Ha Ha Haaaa! Silly human and your light-bulb dependencies,” it mutters mockingly.
But with little else to complain about, and knowing things could be a lot worse, the family and I have made the best of the situation. Without the luxury of TV or the Internet, the creative juices have kicked in and pulled out some exciting new ways to pass the time. For the first three days, we all played a game that I came up with called “Stare at the Living Room Wall.” After mastering that in every way possible, we then hatched a game called “Stare at the Kitchen Wall.”
I’ve tried to explain to my 18-month-old son that this is the way people lived way back when, like during the ‘60s. I don’t think he fully comprehends what’s going on because he usually responds by saying, “crackers” or “pee-pee.” Naturally he’s adjusted much better than my wife and I.
On the flip side, we’ve maintained much better spirits than our neighbors who have power and went less than 24 hours before it came back on. Despite their good fortune, they were shockingly rude and even violent two days ago when we simply stood outside their window and gazed longingly at their TV set. I tried to explain that they didn’t even notice we were there for the first hour, so what was the big deal, but that only bothered them more. So much for being neighborly.
That’s okay, though. We’re gettin’ by. The bathroom wall is just begging to be stared at.
Friday, September 19, 2008
Friday, September 12, 2008
Storm Chaser or Runner Fromer?
Given my excitement for hurricane coverage, the following paragraph from a CNN.com article today caught my attention:
At least one man this week steered his Chevy Tahoe against the stream of traffic, toward the wind-whipped coastline and the target of the storm’s fury.
Believe it or not, the person referenced in the story is not Jim Cantore. Upon further reading, though, it becomes apparent that this man, if you can call him that, is no threat to taking Cantore’s title of Hurricane Ass Kicker. Instead, after overreacting to getting caught in a mild rainstorm a few years ago, this guy merely drives to the expected destination of a hurricane’s arrival, sets up cameras, and then flees like a toddler running from the boogey man.
Click the link above to read the full story, which goes into detail about what he tries to capture with his cameras. Afterward, you might find yourself calling the guy “innovative.” I still call him “wimp.”
At least one man this week steered his Chevy Tahoe against the stream of traffic, toward the wind-whipped coastline and the target of the storm’s fury.
Believe it or not, the person referenced in the story is not Jim Cantore. Upon further reading, though, it becomes apparent that this man, if you can call him that, is no threat to taking Cantore’s title of Hurricane Ass Kicker. Instead, after overreacting to getting caught in a mild rainstorm a few years ago, this guy merely drives to the expected destination of a hurricane’s arrival, sets up cameras, and then flees like a toddler running from the boogey man.
Click the link above to read the full story, which goes into detail about what he tries to capture with his cameras. Afterward, you might find yourself calling the guy “innovative.” I still call him “wimp.”
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
Show Me What You Got
This past weekend, like a lot of people, I nervously watched Hurricane Gustav approach New Orleans, hoping and praying against the unusually cruel fate of a city being decimated by two major hurricanes in three years. As the storm dropped from a category 3 to a category 2 just before it hit the coastline, and then to a category 1 as it passed over Louisiana, like a lot of people, I breathed a sigh of relief. Besides seeing that the storm wasn’t nearly as destructive as Hurricane Katrina, I knew that whatever damage the city did sustain, it’d be in much better hands this year given that those running FEMA back in 2005 are now in charge of maintenance at my condo complex.
Even as the drama lessened, however, I couldn’t help but keep watching – partly to be sure the storm wouldn’t suddenly pick up in intensity, but also because, I hate to admit, the media’s coverage of approaching hurricanes is wildly entertaining.
Gone are the days of the rookie weatherman clinging to a tree while the tenured studio reporter, say Ted Koppel, wished him good luck in riding out the storm. Koppel, for instance, didn’t dream of doing on-the-spot hurricane coverage given the worst case scenario was that he wouldn’t make it back, and the best case scenario was that his hair wouldn’t. Now, all the well-recognized, well-compensated reporters stand on the shorelines doing their imitation of Lieutenant Dan on the shrimp boat in Forest Gump.
I first noticed the trend a few years ago, before Katrina’s far-reaching impact, when Florida was hit by 2-3 relatively mild hurricanes/tropical storms within the span of a few weeks. The high-profile reporters from the 24-hour news networks, the major nightly news networks and, of course, the Weather Channel were all over it. Or should I say in it.
Believing that somehow a microphone and a company-issued rain slick were all they needed to protect themselves from the elements, reporters from numerous stations would stand underneath stop lights that were spinning out of control while saying things like, “Local authorities are urging people to stay in their homes and away from downed power lines.” Others stood on the beach, surrounded by massive amounts of electrical equipment, and said, “As you can see behind me, some folks are ignoring the dangers of the storm and are venturing outdoors. They’re really taking a chance by not seeking shelter. I mean, some of these people don’t even have rain slicks.”
During that same season, while hundreds of cars drove away from town on the street behind her, one female reporter was visibly annoyed to announce that the hurricane she was covering had slowed down and would be delayed in coming ashore. Later, another meterologist sustained a storm-related injury while off the air, but once the cameras were rolling again, she acted like she caught the Super Bowl-winning touchdown.
“Catherine, is everything alright?” asked the anchorman.
“Hell yes! I just got hit by debris! I’m going to Disney World!”
But the main attraction was and always will be Jim Cantore from the Weather Channel. This weatherman/fullback/hurricane pugilist has devoted his life to covering hurricanes, at least those that still have the guts to come ashore after seeing him stand in their path. I actually didn’t see Cantore much during the Gustav coverage, but that’s probably because he doesn’t waste his time with anything less than a category four. During those times when Cantore does get the itch to see what a hurricane is made of, he’s been seen leaving a boring, weakly-pounded section of beach to find a stronger stretch of the storm. Luckily, he keeps the cameras rolling while en route, and even ups the ante by riding in the back of a pickup truck and delivering his report the whole way. That’s right, when the 80-90 mph winds aren’t enough, he creates more wind – if not for everyone else, then at least for himself. I imagine that once the cameras are turned off he can be seen mooning approaching tropical depressions.
Forecasters are extremely valuable in letting us know when we can expect storms to hit. But by the time hurricanes reach land, the locals have ceased watching TV and hopefully are no longer in town or are hiding in their homes or shelters. Standing on the beach or under a whirling stop light as the eye passes through is obviously meant to entertain those of us farther inland who are still watching TV.
For this I say, "Job well done, weather people. Job well done."
Even as the drama lessened, however, I couldn’t help but keep watching – partly to be sure the storm wouldn’t suddenly pick up in intensity, but also because, I hate to admit, the media’s coverage of approaching hurricanes is wildly entertaining.
Gone are the days of the rookie weatherman clinging to a tree while the tenured studio reporter, say Ted Koppel, wished him good luck in riding out the storm. Koppel, for instance, didn’t dream of doing on-the-spot hurricane coverage given the worst case scenario was that he wouldn’t make it back, and the best case scenario was that his hair wouldn’t. Now, all the well-recognized, well-compensated reporters stand on the shorelines doing their imitation of Lieutenant Dan on the shrimp boat in Forest Gump.
I first noticed the trend a few years ago, before Katrina’s far-reaching impact, when Florida was hit by 2-3 relatively mild hurricanes/tropical storms within the span of a few weeks. The high-profile reporters from the 24-hour news networks, the major nightly news networks and, of course, the Weather Channel were all over it. Or should I say in it.
Believing that somehow a microphone and a company-issued rain slick were all they needed to protect themselves from the elements, reporters from numerous stations would stand underneath stop lights that were spinning out of control while saying things like, “Local authorities are urging people to stay in their homes and away from downed power lines.” Others stood on the beach, surrounded by massive amounts of electrical equipment, and said, “As you can see behind me, some folks are ignoring the dangers of the storm and are venturing outdoors. They’re really taking a chance by not seeking shelter. I mean, some of these people don’t even have rain slicks.”
During that same season, while hundreds of cars drove away from town on the street behind her, one female reporter was visibly annoyed to announce that the hurricane she was covering had slowed down and would be delayed in coming ashore. Later, another meterologist sustained a storm-related injury while off the air, but once the cameras were rolling again, she acted like she caught the Super Bowl-winning touchdown.
“Catherine, is everything alright?” asked the anchorman.
“Hell yes! I just got hit by debris! I’m going to Disney World!”
But the main attraction was and always will be Jim Cantore from the Weather Channel. This weatherman/fullback/hurricane pugilist has devoted his life to covering hurricanes, at least those that still have the guts to come ashore after seeing him stand in their path. I actually didn’t see Cantore much during the Gustav coverage, but that’s probably because he doesn’t waste his time with anything less than a category four. During those times when Cantore does get the itch to see what a hurricane is made of, he’s been seen leaving a boring, weakly-pounded section of beach to find a stronger stretch of the storm. Luckily, he keeps the cameras rolling while en route, and even ups the ante by riding in the back of a pickup truck and delivering his report the whole way. That’s right, when the 80-90 mph winds aren’t enough, he creates more wind – if not for everyone else, then at least for himself. I imagine that once the cameras are turned off he can be seen mooning approaching tropical depressions.
Forecasters are extremely valuable in letting us know when we can expect storms to hit. But by the time hurricanes reach land, the locals have ceased watching TV and hopefully are no longer in town or are hiding in their homes or shelters. Standing on the beach or under a whirling stop light as the eye passes through is obviously meant to entertain those of us farther inland who are still watching TV.
For this I say, "Job well done, weather people. Job well done."
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