I had a feeling I would also "enjoy" some South Florida "weather." I had never experienced a hurricane or a tropical storm. Over the years, I watched them on television and thought they were a sort of drummed up, made-for-TV drama. Young hustling reporters typically braved high winds, driving rain, and roaring tides to tell the world a story of unleashed Nature. It all seemed very far away.
That sense changed for me over this past weekend. The rain did arrive, creating an ominous, Biblical setting. However, what really concerned me was the sense of being trapped. I was eager to get home, and the storm had the potential to force airlines to cancel flights and local authorities to close the dreadful Fort Lauderdale airport.
The businesspeople I was visiting lived in the area and were quite calm about the whole affair. They said storm situations don't really get serious until Category Three was declared. We weren't at that level; it was unlikely we would be. That calmed me down, but didn't allay my sense of urgency about getting my flight out. My plane was the last scheduled departure to New Jersey, where I live. I felt similarly as Bogey did catching the last train from Paris in the movie Casablanca. However, my heart was not broken or anything like that. I simply wanted to get home.
The plane did leave, with me on it, about an hour later than its scheduled departure time. (The following day saw mass airline cancellations in Fort Lauderdale and Miami.) We were between storm bands, so the aircraft didn't jostle up and down like an unruly washing machine. When I got home -- around one in the morning -- I told my wife about the experience of my first tropical weather event, and how I couldn't bring myself to watch The Hunger Games while seated 35,000 feet above the storm.
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