Sandy Versus Irma

I was feeling pretty sorry for myself as I walked Rusty in the green and pleasant land that is Palm Beach County.  I contrasted what I saw and compared it to where I live 200 miles away in a burnt out desert. He saw  bright green iguanas lounging in perfect safety on a  bunch of ficus roots across the canal. He had taken a decent walk so now was his time to hunker and observe. So he did: 

Then I met Bob Vecchione from Long Island. He came by and asked me how I was doing. For some reason I blurted my tale of car buying under storm duress and he had  his own way of cheering me up. He had survived Hurricane Sandy on Long Island. Now retired in Florida he was hit with two waves of seawater from both sides during that massive hurricane and his car barely survived yet he still drives it today, with a pinch of nostalgia I suspect.

His perspective on the random irrationality of powerful storms was interesting to me as he confirmed my own suspicions about hurricane preparation. I think we do it more to please ourselves and reassure ourselves that we have done what's possible. Certainly some actions will help but all too often people who take no precautions at all often end up with less damage than those of us who obsess over every detail of our storm response plan.

He told me about his neighbors who did nothing and came through unscathed and he talked about the slow and aggravating period of recovery. He empathized, it actually felt good talking to a stranger.

Rusty enjoyed running through the grass but while we talked he sat and stared at his nemesis across the water. Bob told me the ficus tree had been huge and shady and was cut down just a month before. He muttered it had seemed a shame at the time but now with all those reports of trees knocked over by high winds...

Rusty and I wandered back to breakfast at the hotel cutting across dew covered fields and avoiding spandex cyclists who ran hither and yon in upscale Boca Raton.

At the breakfast table we overheard a guest engage in a conversation, a monologue perhaps, with an employee. At one point the hail-fellow-well-met traveling businessman sympathized with the hotel employee saying how much damage he had seen and how much easier Tampa had it from Irma. My wife and I burst into spontaneous laughter. Indeed I'm sure the city of Boca Raton was in a huge uproar over the tipping of some ornamental plants in their pots...

Leafless winter in the Keys...and my electric blue Fusion to replace my bland tan Fusion that drowned. It's not a worthy thought I know but still I had to wonder how many cars drowned in Boca Raton?

Damage And Not

Parking rules are suspended providing handicapped, driveways and danger are not a problem. Streets open and close at random around town as clean up continues. There has been some grumbling from the leadership of the city about people throwing stuff out that is not hurricane damaged. I think that might be a tough complaint to follow up on. Clean up is already tough enough on everyone. 

Nothing is quite back to normal. AS hard as one tries to ignore the weird bits.

 I am trying to look for color where I can. I am walking Rusty in his old haunts and he seems to enjoy them ignoring the devastation.

 But its there:

 Happily its mostly vegetation that's torn up.

 Dates never finish ripening here I'm told the humidity is to be blame. They are colorful though.

 Look at these old roofs, still standing. Old Town was built to last no matter what they tell you.

Trash everywhere and cars need fixing. I changed a car battery for a friend the afternoon I took these pictures:

And tourists are being enticed to return. I hope they are ready to be patient and keep their expectations low:

Near Normal

Sandy's after the hurricane dispensing good cheer till supplies ran out

I got the 13 year old ET4 out of storage in Marathon and rode it to Key West after I put a few pounds of pressure in the tire. I stopped by my wife's temporary classroom which came within three feet of being flooded. The leaves mark highest surge up the ramp which looks longer in the picture than it really is. She is supposed to get a new Adult Ed classroom of her own next  year when the county builds a new library in Marathon...

I put a few pounds of air in the tires from the compressor I carry in my car and took off. I had forgotten my helmet so the 60 mph breeze was a bit uncomfortable and I forget my sunscreen so in keeping with the chaos of post-Irma life I was a bit scatter brained but it all came out in the end. Crossing the Seven Mile Bridge:

With the orange Vespa giving me fits in the replacement of the drive belt I am riding the 2004 ET4 150, the original automatic Vespa in the US and I like this scooter a lot. The paint is still thick the engine runs smoothly and after the recent tune up and new suspension it is full of get up and go. My wife following me home said she had trouble keeping up in the car.That's what I like to hear. If however you want an idea how slow clean up is check out he Aids Memorial:

 The road is still closed at Higgs Beach where flooding and sand invaded Key West as usual. I turned north on White Street and checked out the new city hall. I was one of the apparent minority who supported this project, a pet of Mayor Cates. he took a  lot of flak for the $20 million construction job,but I think he was right to put city hall here in the old school. It's centrally located with lots of parking and it is apparently strong enough to survive a Category Four Hurricane.

 Last stop on the way to work: Sandys. Now pen with an extensive menu.

I celebrated a return to near normal with bacon in my cheese bread and a quiet spot to read the newspaper on my phone:

Even the rooster respected my need for quiet contemplation in a hurricane world, by staying quiet for once.

I remember this Key West...

The Story Of A Table

That these wires are still down causes me and the neighbors on my street endless aggravation. People are on their roofs putting down tarps, ladders, nails power tools are all in use. An injury would lead to a lawsuit, its inevitable as these wires are preventing fire trucks and ambulances from getting on our street.

Somehow electricity has been restored but trash collection is impossible. I call it Mumbai Street to designate the hopeless wire confusion that reigns here. My neighbor put in the crosspieces to fit his huge pick up underneath but these wires which would carry TV from a cable company and phone/internet service from American Telephone and Telegraph are no ones responsibility and no one will fix this mess. 

 Mumbai Street in all it's decomposing glory with rain forecast for this my weekend off work:

So in approaching my rented home in grumpy mood I come across the picnic table which had been shoved into the middle of a heap of trash in the yard by 140 mph winds. It had looked like this in the shadow of the palm:

And now it looks like this, restored to its proper place and function, a sturdy bit of construction not diminished by a category four storm:

This is the man who built the table 20 years ago, my landlord's father Mike, a proud Cuban-American. I guess it took Hurricane Irma for me to find out the story behind the innocuous picnic table. They built it for the family to sit around when they came to the Keys to spend a family vacation here.

 The table is massive and  very heavy and built to last. It must have been built properly because it is completely unscathed. The wood is worn and its comfortable to sit at as the proportions are correct but also the worn surfaces feel good in the way only old wood feels. 

Mike is attached to this house as it has a lot of happy family memories which makes me feel even more aware of my good fortune renting here. I have always liked the house because it exudes what must be all those happy vacation memories. It is also well built and solid. No water got in and we were in the very center of the massive hurricane that covered all of Florida.

He's an old man but full of energy is el viejo.  I was glad to meet him even under these dire circumstances. Luckily we need touch up only but we are apparently looked after by a caring capable family.

The street? Thats a mess and not going to change for a good long while I guess and those wires will stay down until someone gets hurt no doubt and then there will be hell to pay.

Still I feel I am a lucky man.

Denny's

To say the word got out would be an understatement. In times like these a hot meal served without fuss or delay is a life altering experience and people lined up for a slice of that.

I compare our situation to that in Puerto Rico and the Virgin Islands and aside from wind strengths and construction codes one has to be grateful for the Overseas Highway. Also that it stayed mostly intact and the places where it didn't were quickly fixed. So we were lucky to get to meet the new Denny's disaster food truck. Seen here dispensing buttermilk pancakes and coffee to survivors. It was a truly simple yet great thing.

I ate at Denny's  all the time when I first came to the US in 1981 and rode coast to coast on a Vespa P200. I had never seen such a  place before with huge menus and over the top descriptions of food that sounded too good to be true to someone not used to rhetorical flourish in day to day use. I ate the Grand Slam Breakfast all over the place and pancakes and bacon and eggs set me up for the day's ride. I've always had a fondness for the quintessential 24 hour diner, much more so than bland fast food eateries which hold no nostalgia value for me.Denny's was the American diner only ever seen at the movies.

So to be served free food by smiling clean people in a fast moving line was really quite amazing. The offerings were smart and simple: pancakes bacon and hot coffee and cold water. Stand in line with hands outstretched and a few minutes later you got a seat all to yourself. Easy and fast - and free. It was so nice we came and ate here twice at Mile Marker 15.

In the photo above the lady on the left took a  few minutes to tell us about this eighteen wheeler serving food. She said it was a new idea dreamed up at Denny's headquarters in South Carolina after they saw the damage inflicted by Hurricane Harvey in Texas. I guess the food truck craze must have struck somebody because this is probably the world's biggest and it has to be the most organized. 

 It's hard to explain how much this gesture meant.

 But I'm not going to forget it. And in a world gone mad with fear and aggression and deprivation a plate of hotcakes and bacon makes a world...of difference. It's not a cure for cancer but it is a cure for the blues. At the moment you can't ask for more.

Next stop Denny's said was Immokalee. Lucky them, lucky us.