This may not be a surprise to any of My Faithful Readers, but I’m not taking Hurricane Irene very seriously.
I’ve bagged on Boston about its penchant for freaking out about impending weather in the past and I’m here to do so once again.
You see, having grown up in Iowa, I’m not used to really “preparing” for bad weather (note: this apparently doesn’t apply to all Iowans). Bad weather just sorta happens and you live with it. You’re out in the open and whatever hits you is going to hit you full-force, so you deal with it.
In the winter we get dozens of feet of snow and go without electricity and heat for varying periods of time. Generally when this happens, you don’t get to hunker down and wait it out. Instead you get to put on some long undies and go scoop snow for hours so that you can avoid getting stuck on your farm all winter.
In the summer, it rains and it blows and occasionally a strong enough wind will come along and fling your trampoline halfway across your yard after wrapping it around one of your hog buildings. This doesn’t even account for the tornadoes which pretty much show up whenever they see fit and do things like deposit your tractor and living room into a different county.
That’s why I’m finding this hurricane business a tad ridiculous. The whole thing has already been downgraded and figured to be largely petered out by the time it rumbled all the way up the coast as it was.
When a hurricane reaches New England, it isn’t so much a hurricane as it is a rainy day with a strong breeze.
As such, I find it amusing how many people living in Boston and Cambridge are going into panic mode and loading up on supplies like water, batteries and non-perishable foodstuffs.
It’s going to be here for one freakin’ day. The real nitty-gritty of Irene ain’t supposed to roll in until Saturday night and figures to be outta town by Sunday evening.
Heck, there’s a good chance that anyone with a real doozy of a hangover is going to miss the entire thing as they’re sleeping off the night before.
Maybe I’ve seen “The Day After Tomorrow” one too many times and I’ve become desensitized to any weather situation that doesn’t involve Dennis Quaid recommending an immediate evacuation of an entire continent, but it just seems that these things never, ever live up to the hype and hysteria.
As always—given that I’m writing this before a single drop of rain has fallen on this fine city—there’s every possibility that this thing could roll into Boston and absolutely kick the city in the teeth. It could flood my apartment and break all my windows and give me a wedgie for good measure. If that happens, maybe I’ll start cutting Boston a little slack whenever they freak out about the weather.
Until then, I’m all stocked up on beer and Scrubs DVDs, so bring on the hurricane.
UPDATE #1: Hurricane Irene is already trying to make me pay for disparaging her…my fantasy baseball team is in first-place with roughly one week left of our regular season and now roughly half my team has had games canceled for today and tomorrow. Well-played, Irene…well-played indeed.
Update #2: Hurricane Irene is not letting up. The fine folks at Wing Works in Somerville just called me back to tell me they were canceling my order. Apparently, they’re not comfortable coming all the way to Cambridge in this weather just to bring me some buffalo wings and onion rings. Irene strikes again!