Growing up, I’m pretty sure I thought a hurricane was just a dramatic rainstorm. You know, like nature throwing a tantrum. But now? Hurricanes are practically on my speed dial—they’re that much a part of my life, both personally and professionally. I live about 60 miles inland from the Atlantic, so getting cozy with what a hurricane can do is kind of non-negotiable. High winds, floods, torrential rain, and the ever-terrifying threat of a tornado? It’s like nature’s horror film on repeat.
Everyone around here has their war stories—nights spent with the wind howling like it’s auditioning for a thriller, sitting in the dark, praying the roof doesn’t fly off, and just waiting for daylight. But here’s the thing about hurricanes: they don’t sneak up on you. Oh no, they’re more like the slowest, most anxiety-inducing stalker imaginable. It’s like being stalked by a Box Turtle—except this turtle comes with weather alerts and a terrifying to-do list. You’ve got plenty of time to pick up what we affectionately call Hurricane Snacks. And let’s be real, my "emergency" snacks are basically an excuse to load up on Pop-Tarts. I mean, who needs a milk-and-bread sandwich in a crisis when you’ve got frosted pastries, am I right?
Hurricanes, unlike their drama-queen cousin, the tornado, give you ample time to prep, evacuate, or settle in for a long wait. And let me tell you, the wait is the worst part. There’s this weird moment when you’re like, “Okay, can we just get this over with already?!" It’s almost like you’re impatient for chaos, which sounds insane, but here we are.
Then there’s the best part: Hurricane Parties. Yep, you heard me. I have friends with beach houses (must be nice) who treat incoming hurricanes like an excuse for a cocktail-fueled vacation. They hit the liquor store and head toward the storm, while the rest of us batten down the hatches. I will say, though, if I ever do score my own beachfront property, you better believe I’m throwing one of those infamous hurricane parties. And trust me, it’s going to be more than Pop-Tarts—though I’m not making any promises about milk-and-bread sandwiches!
