Wednesday, January 26, 2011

Wilma, I think we should just be friends.

This weekend has been a weekend of firsts. As you may or may not be aware American Samoa was visited by Tropical Cyclone Wilma this past weekend. Now, Im not really sure the difference between a Tropical Cyclone and a Hurricane, but apparently there is one.  Feel free to google it.

Anyways, we got word on Wednesday that Wilma was on her way and would be here Thursday around noon. Well noon came and went, and the skies remained clear. Well, as clear as they get here, which is actually not that clear.  Have I mentioned we get 200+ inches of rain a year?
Next thing we hear is that the Wilma will be arriving Friday morning, then it was Friday afternoon.  Friday afternoon rolled around and the skies were sunny, but none the less some schools let out early, you know, just in case Wilma happened to show up in that 30 minute window of time they were saving.

Long story short, apparently Wilma, not unlike a lot of females I've known, was on her own schedule and finally decided to show up for the dance early Sunday morning.

The worst part of it all was not actually the storm itself, but the extended amount of time Bill (my roommate) and I spent waiting for her to show up. Neither of us having experienced anything like this before, we weren't really sure of what to expect. While people around us boarded up their windows, we took a look at our crummy apartment and minimal worldly possessions and thought "What's the worst that could happen? Our stuff gets wet?"  Call us naive if you will, but all we had was a hammer, lacking the nails and boards to finish the job.  However, one issue we knew would be a problem was the fact that several of our windows hadn't been closed in years and were either rusted open or missing panes altogether. About 3 A.M. Sunday the wind was getting pretty bad and I decided I should probably do something.  So I went to war on our kitchen windows. It was ferocious 20 minute battle, with the winds raging right outside, but I finally got one of them shut. Then I went after the other one.  By the time they were both shut,  I was thoroughly exhausted and didn't really care what Wilma did anymore.  I sprawled out on the couch, threw my hood over my head in case the glass broke (yes, that was my actual thought process) and passed out. The only time I woke was an hour or so later, to the sound of Bill nailing his yoga mat to the wall over some missing window panes in his room.

And thats about it. As exciting as a Tropical Cyclone may sound, it really wasn't. Wilma toyed with my emotions, was loud, temperamental, and late, but overall I'd say she was a bit of a disappointment. Not unlike a lot of females I've known.

1 comment:

  1. Nice story except you do not and have not known a lot of females and therefore probably had to rely on the anecdotes of your much more hunky spunky room mate in order for you to bring such analogies into your wilma tale.