There’s nothing more irritating than the sound of a neighbor’s generator as you sit inside a four-bedroom sauna going on 48 hours. Now imagine that noise x3 because every house around you seemingly has a functioning generator except for you. *eyeroll*
That’s how I spent most of Hurricane Irma. At my parent’s house in Hialeah, the city infamously known for water, mud, and factories. They live in the nice part, but still. My family didn’t evacuate, because most Miamians never do – and we’re always criticized for it. I left the beach by force, because my parents, like many others, were convinced it was going to be submerged and I would sink with it. Thankfully nothing happened to my apartment, or most of Miami Beach for that matter, but we were lucky.
But want to know what really grinds my gears?! My apartment had power the ENTIRE time. The State of Florida went into panic mode on Tuesday convincing thousands of people to run for cover for a storm that showed up on Sunday. I basically could have enjoyed the comforts of unlimited Netflix, hot meals, and air conditioning for days on end while Irma did her thing outside. Instead, I was held hostage in Hialeah for what seemed like an eternity – a very hot and humid eternity.
My hostage situation did have some ups though. I got to finally finish How To Murder Your Life, which ironically, made me want to murder mine. I highly recommend it BTW. I also saved a bird’s life, or at least I tried. It’s the thought that counts right?
Thankfully, the worst is over. I went to my neighborhood beach spot on 17th & Collins as soon as I got back & was shocked at how empty and peaceful it looked. No beach chairs, no banner airplanes, no boats flashing giant ads on LED screens, no tourists, barely any locals. It was eerily beautiful. So I laid there for a few hours by myself soaking in the rare moment. I hope that everyone that survived the wrath of Irma in the Caribbean, the Keys, and the rest of Florida are able to recover quickly.