Hurricane Ian Chased Me All the Way to Orlando
He left Tampa mostly alone to come find me
I was told to get the hell out of Tampa Monday. I checked the latest hurricane models, decided Tampa was about to get directly hit, and made a snap decision to flee east to Orlando.
Tuesday morning I woke up in my hotel, feeling good about that decision. My dog was nestled up under my right arm, sound asleep, and all was calm.
That all changed with one click of the remote control.
“The storm has turned east and now appears likely to hit Florida around Sarasota or Venice,” a local meteorologist said.
I continued watching, and soon learned the storm would be turning toward Orlando after landfall, likely hitting (at that time) as a Category 1.
Irony can be such a b-word.
I still had cause for concern at that point that the bays in Tampa (both the eponymous one and Hillsborough, which I live almost directly on) would overflow and create a mass crisis of storm surge from 5–8 feet in volume.
Turns out, the bays drained rather than overflow. So no flooding at Chez Frank. I still don’t know if there is power at my crib, but there most likely is no property damage to contend with.
Meanwhile, I’m still sitting in Orlando, where Ian continues to kick, bite and spit as a high-end tropical storm. There is mass flooding in Orange County, so getting out of here and returning to my apparently-untouched home will not come soon.
I have no idea what Ian’s problem is with me. Whatever it is, he’s taking it personally.
