A conversation between two bank tellers and me…I…myself…me.
BT1: Crazy weather out there today.
CW: Yes, you’re right about that. They finally named the storm. It’s Andre or Andrea or something like that.
BT2: (bounding around the corner) I know (looong O)! I’m scared to death. It’s only 140 meyels off the coast (long O)! Theyr reeeally concerned.
CW: (raising an eyebrow) So where you from?
BT2: Do I not sound like I’m from heere?
CW: Well, no. And nobody’s really concerned about this. We usually don’t really worry about those storms until they are a strong category 2. You must be new to the lowcountry.
BT2: Well, I’m from Pennsylvania. I’m terrified! A category 1 totaled my car the summer I mooved down.
CW: (thinking, “well, don’t leave your car on Ashley St. during a hurricane, for crying out loud. But saying…) Listen. If you’re new to the area respond to the weather the way you would choose a good place for seafood. Do what the locals do. So until your neighbors with grits in their kitchen start boarding up, grab a beer, hit the IOP and tell your yankee friends you rode out a hurricane.
I would save the Happy First Day o’ Hurricane Season for the actually first day o’ hurricane season, but since our first named storm, Andrea, has graced us with her presence three weeks early, I thought “what the heck?”
Happy Hurricane Season, folks! May the season be filled with storms strong enough to close the bridges and increase the surf but weak enough not to necessitate FEMA’s “special” skills.