Big waves, big winds!
The first hurricane of the season is bearing down on the Hawaiian Islands.
I’m not a fan. I’ve been living here for eight years and I’ve never gotten used to the potential for kill storms. I’m SoCal beach cities born and bred, desert makes sense to me.
The ground can shake ’til buildings fall down and I’m not gonna blink an eye. But gale-force winds and torrential downpours scare the shit out of me.
Our old place in Haleiwa had a mango tree growing up through our lanai, supporting our roof. It was pretty kick ass. Except for teeming mass of rats that fed in it then spent whatever spare time they had playing tag inside our roof.
When the wind would start howling the entire house would set to swaying and it seemed like the roof would peel off and going flying into the void at any moment. Toss thunder into the mix and I’m a nervous wreck shivering on the couch while my french bulldog tries to figure out what the big deal is. Mr. Debs doesn’t understand we could snuff it at any moment.
Living on Kauai doesn’t help, the specter of Hurricane Iniki hangs over my head whenever the weather forecast nerds go into hype overdrive.
“It’ll probably be no big deal, Rory, relax. Of course we thought Iniki was going to pass by and it destroyed everything.”
The 2011 tsunami didn’t help my nerves. We’d evac’ed to high ground and set to drinking when someone pulled up the footage of Japan getting smoked. It was on its way to us. I passed out in a folding chair on the side of Kam Highway, woke up expecting a wasteland.
Nothing happened. That time.
Prepping is kind of fun though. Buying up all the water and toilet paper you can. The water for obvious reasons, the TP because that’s what people do here and I figure they know what’s going on. And it’ll be a good luxury to barter if times get hard. Other than that… strike anywhere matches, glow sticks, alcohol, tons of non perishable food like Pop Tarts and cases of chili. Candles if I can remember.
I’ve got a veritable arsenal of spearguns, which I understand aren’t as good as real guns, but are all sorts of intimidating. Hawaii doesn’t have high gun ownership rates anyway, so if I equip my end times war gang with ’em we should be able to get some business done.
One thing that really kills me though, I’m not getting my Picc line (a catheter that punches antibiotics into a man) removed until Wednesday, so I’m going to miss the bomb east swell that lights up all the spots near my house.