They say you can never go Home...

Soldiers of Sparta were allowed to return home after lost battles, only if carried dead upon their shields. I'm convinced this is a more practical and time-saving way to go about it.

Thursday, September 02, 2004

Hurricane Frances

The funniest thing about this Monster seething off the coast, like a bran muffin and two cups of coffee on an empty stomach, is how absolutely pissed it has made my father.

One might think, okay, anger: sure! That's a completely natural, healthy reaction to the circs., in light of massive property damage, possible loss of life, and days of miserable humidity sans Power. Of course, one might-could be hideously wrong, too.

It is the fact that all schools in the entire area, from Tampa, Orlando, and down to the Keys are closed tomorrow, that has incensed Dad so.

My father is absolutely convinced that the crack teams of meteorologists, who are monitoring this thing like it's Michael Jackson at Disney World, are straight-up Liars who are doing all this simply to incite the masses and increase sales at Loewe’s and Home Despot. It's a conspiracy! And I'm sure he thinks that somehow those Gays are involved in it too. (Someday, when I'm more patient, I shall have to relate his theories about the Gay Mafia, who are single-handedly causing jobs to dry up, moral centres to crumble, and horsemen of the apocalypse to come galloping up from the pits of Hell for a quick game of polo and some scotch on the rocks, before they lay claim to Earth.)

So, canceling all school in the area was the straw that caught the barn afire. He's been stewing about it the whole damn night, sipping his Pinot "Eggregio" and flipping through the channels.

My sister, a fifth grade teacher, arrives for her bi-weekly visit to The Compound in the midst of this maelstrom, to exercise her visitation rights to the Nervous Beagle and share a quick bitch-sesh from me.

Dad: Give me the number to the school board.

Sister: Why?

Dad: I want to call those jerks. I CAN'T BELIEVE they cancelled school. These people are just crazy...they don't know what the hell they’re doing.

Sis: Dad, the whole of South Florida is evacuated. They need the schools in the area to house the 2.5 million that are evacuating.

Dad: That's ridiculous! They don't need to do that! They're making a big deal out of absolutely nothing!

Sis: [Silent]

Dad: (Raving, as though it's my SISTER'S FAULT that school is not in session.)

D: (Complaining still; sun has set, crickets chirping, entire empires have fallen...)

S: [Silent]

S: Dad, let's pretend for a second I'm not a teacher in Hillsborough County.

D: I'm not going to use your name!

S: (Seemingly ponders this.) Let's pretend anyway.

D: (Confused)

S: Okay, ready? I'm not giving it to you. Get off the couch and get the number yourself, if it’s that important. Don’t get irate at me.

(Exeunt)

This stands in stark contrast with my mode of dealing with him:

Me: Dad, I think these people are evacuating. There’s no way this traffic is going to let up.

Dad: No, they’re not! Jesus! There aren't enough brain surgeons in this state to lobotomise all these assholes!

Moi: (explodes nuclear style, narrowly missing all the colors of the colorful metaphor rainbow by mere angstroms)

D: [Silent]

Mir: So…are you going to help me with an alternate route or what?

(Complete radio silence)

I’ve been wound a bit tightly as of late.