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The Hurricane Cometh (in a very big way)
Monday, October 24, 2005
Man, a lot has happened since my last entry 24 hours ago. Namely, a major hurricane with a whole lot of attitude. It passed directly over me and definitely left an impression. Her name was Wilma, and talk about a high-maintenance date. I woke at 7 a.m. to the sounds of rain raking across the windows of my 12th-floor hotel room. Soon the entire room was swaying in the wind. Not long after that, a giant "W" flew past my window, crashing to the ground below me and making me officially a guest not of the Westin, but of the "estin."
A little after 8, the hotel staff corralled all of us guests into an interior ballroom -- and for good reason. The windows had begun popping out of the rooms, crashing 8, 10, 12 stories to the ground. The lobby was a war zone. The front door had blasted out, scattering glass everywhere. A skylight had burst, and rain was pouring into the lobby. Water covered the tile floor, and the wind -- eventually surpassing 110 m.p.h. -- picked the water up off the floor and hurled it horizontally through the hotel. I'll tell you, no amusement park on earth could replicate such adrenalin-surging, panic-inducing thrills.
It became obvious pretty early on that my book signing scheduled for tonight in Fort Lauderdale was not going to happen. In fact, we'd be doing well if the bookstore was there at all by the end of the day. It's amazing how close you can get with total strangers when you're all wondering exactly when the roof is going to come down on top of you. Before long, I was on a first-name basis with several of my fellow guests.
A little voice began to whisper in my ear: "Hello! You're a journalist, John. This is a major national story. You could not be more in the middle of it unless you donned wings and went airborne. Don't you think you should, you know, do your job?"
The author in me replied: "Oh, shut up!"
The journalist: "I'd call in if I were you."
The author: "And miss the free Hurricane Buffet?"
The journalist: "You're pathetic..."
OK, OK... I finally caved and called my editor. "Uh, I'm sitting in the middle of a hurricane and the glass doors just exploded into the lobby. Interested?"
Hell, yes, he was interested. He would be getting an out-of-state byline on a breaking story from a staff member without -- and this is the truly important part of the equation -- having to pay a SINGLE PENNY in travel expenses. I could have filed the menu from the Indian restautant I had lunched at the day before and he would have been thrilled.
After the winds died down, I returned to my room and started writing. On a laptop running on batteries. And with no way to recharge it. The power was out everywhere. I raced against the battery, and got done just as the warning message popped up. I raced to hook into a phone line and dial the story in... And, of course, the phones were down.
After a fair amount of racing around the darkened hotel, I talked the cute Russian bartender into letting me unplug her cash register from the generator and letting me plug in my laptop. I then discovered the wireless service was still up and running in the lobby. In no time at all I had my column in. (And you can read it at http://go.philly.com/grogan .)
It's now Tuesday night. My book signing never happened. My rental car got nailed by a tree AND a large steel sign. (And guess what dummy declined the extra insurance)... The airport remains closed. My flight back to Philadelphia in the morning has been canceled. The power is still out. I'm sitting in the bar, writing this by emergency-generator lights while hotel engineers board up the broken doors and windows. Thank God the Heineken is cold.
Good night, and may the next book signing -- Thursday night in Cleveland -- be a little less eventful.
posted by John Grogan at 8:25 PM
 
1 Comments:
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I totally agree with you! Really, sometimes I write something about replica watches or rolex watches, but I still do not understand why so famous the omega watches or rolex.but you know what you’re saying.