Earl Who?

So there’s a hurricane coming, or at least that’s what the talk-box is telling us. “Freak out! Freak out! There’s a HURRICANE!” Like any good boy scout, I hate to face a situation unprepared, so like the rest of the island, I headed to Cronig’s lastnight before work to make sure I had everything that would be necessary to be stuck in my house for three days: drinking water, toilet paper, batteriess, Doritos, Gatorade, heaping bags of ice, nacho fixin’s, Brazilian Jesus candles… Then of course I stopped at Jim’s for the one thing I couldn’t get at the grocery store: Jameson.

This morning I woke up (sorta) early and scurried around the yard collecting potential projectiles and securing trash cans, then proceeded to pile all of the important things in my basement room onto the work bench that runs down one wall in case the wrath of Earl came flooding in through the base of the garage door.

I was all set to be housebound with my roommates and the dog, when I happened to check Facebook and see a bulletin about a hurricane party at a friend’s house, with multiple live bands, a generator, a keg, and a giant pot of stew made up by local chefs. Self I said, That’s where you want to be. So I rallied the roommate and the Niece of Shame and we formed a plan. To hell with hunkering down–why not party it up?

Mind you, it’s quarter of five, and there’s not a speck of wind. Not even a fluttering breeze. The driving ban has been lifted, but no one’s on the road. It’s kind of creepy, and very surreal. My roommate was at South Beach earlier and said he watched a surfer get arrested for choosing to paddle out in the storm waves– apparently, four cruisers arrived on the scene as the surfer was handcuffed and taken away for the major Martha’s Vineyard crime of daring to have a good time. Is this poor dude’s arrest going to be the most exciting thing that happens today?

Word is now that by the time he gets to us, Earl will have expended most of his fury and been downgraded to a tropical storm. My landlord is asleep on the couch, and the power’s still on.

Is it wrong for me to be disappointed? I mean I’m relieved, in one sense, that it won’t be that bad. But I was ready. I’m still ready. And instead of going to work (not allowed–bar’s closed), I’m still going to Oak Bluffs to hang out in a basement and listen to live music with a bunch of my friends on a Friday night in September. It’s pretty perfect.

Buuuuuuut…. it’s just not as exciting if I can leave whenever I want.


~ by saltgirlspeaks on 3 September, 2010.

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