Memories of Hurricane Irene – 2011

This is an actual email sent to a cousin in California a day or so after Hurricane Irene. I was a bit stressed!

The Jersey Shore was having more fun that a roomful of toddlers needing Ritalin! That little earthquake Jersy felt earlier, yeah, I know, we are whiners. One Tweet claimed that a 5.8 is what people on the West Coast use to stir their coffee with! Friday and Saturday was a frenzy of hurricane preparedness:

Friday:

• 3 hours in ShopRite (okay we needed the food anyway, but please tell my housemate that we are not the Donner Party and in imminent danger of eating the dog!).
• 2 hours up and down 3 flights of stairs, asking tenants to take in their porch junk, then arguing with a drunk and belligerent laborer to move ladder. This was combined with neighbor blathering about walking all the dogs and asking repeatedly, “Did you see the photos on Facebook?”
  DO I LOOK LIKE I HAVE TIME TO BE ON FACEBOOK!
• Spent 2 hours with handicapped neighbor at clinic because he had 2nd or 3rd degree burn on his knuckles.
• The police have made our lovely neighborhood a prime directive because this past year the neighborhood has had way too much #@$ noise and suspicious activity, so they are patrolling the block.
• Up and down 3 flights of stairs, again, demanding tenants take in their porch junk NOW!
• Back to drunken not-so-handy jerk who refuses to take down the 2-story ladder, he was still gonna work up there: It was now dusk and a light drizzle was falling.
• Run out to get gas and a Dunkin. Gas line ridiculous; settle for Dunkin and pack of smokes.
• Up and down 3 flights of stairs removing porch junk.
• Check on ladder, the laborer is still drinking in the back, ask neighbor to take down the 2-story ladder, drunken laborer argues with me: he is still going to work up there. (It is windy, it is now raining, and he is drunk. Duh!)
• Neighbor agrees to move ladder, however, drunken laborer argues that he needs the ladder to work.

This is where people end up in a clock tower. I am exhausted, big hurricane heading for the Jersey Shore and preparations are not done and I LOST it. I screamed at laborer to move his butt and put away the ladder!

Police are across the street settling dispute over there. They hear me yelling. They come over to talk to me.

Guess who got the lecture? NOT the drunken idiot.

Saturday:

Sullen people now hung over and avoiding me. Sadly, they live in the safest apartment in back and will probably outlive us due to the pre-embalming fluids (kind of like the Rollin' Stones). They are now looking for more money to buy alcohol and cigarettes.

Police loudspeaker, ordering evacuation of our block: We are ½ block away from the ocean.

Very pregnant woman upstairs (we call her Snookie, aka Jersey Shore fame), won't leave. Mother, daughter screaming obscenities in parking lot (no cops, no ticket for them).

The tenants who refuse to leave are: Multiple handicapped tenants, some with dogs, who won’t go to a shelter; two are bedridden with illnesses and are home alone; some are on meds; others are just annoying whiners; and one very pregnant Snookie with her hoodies talking big upstairs, thinking a hurricane, 100 yards from the ocean, is an opportunity to party!

I am a woman on edge at a computer.

Pregnant women left.

Can't wait for storm.

So how’s by you?

PS: We survived the storm, no structural damage, no power outage. We were in a protected pocket. I simply do not want to hear the weather channel for a few days!