The Roller Coaster of Emotions That Is Hurricane Dorian

Preparing for Hurricane Dorian has been an exercise in extremes. One second we're goofing on it and having a good time, but on a dime, Dorian is back to being a Class III Killstorm and our lives are flashing before our eyes.

Here's how things have been going for me in the days leading up to the storm:

Wednesday, August 28

I depart from the metropolis that is Harrisburg via airplane with my sights set on Orlando. The buzz in the airport was of a monstrous storm forming from the depth of the Atlantic. I laughed it off.

"I've been through these before, there's nothing to be afraid of," I tell my fellow passengers. "Hurricanes are nothing but air and water. There's just a lot of it, and last time I checked, we need both of those to live."

We took flight, I napped, and shot angry glances at the parents of a crying child.

Friday, August 30

A tempest this way comes. 

Dorian strengthens, fueling off the warm waters of the Caribbean. 

I watch the coverage on television, and a bead of sweat forms on my brow. I am scared not of Dorian! I bid it good day!

Saturday August 31

I am terrified.

Dorian is preparing to decimate anything in its path.

I wouldn't call it a panic, but I write emails to my friends, family, and my dearest Kate Beckinsale, just in case I don't escape the clutches of of the murderous cloud monster.

Kate Beckinale, has yet to respond to the email and surely it is because she is too distraught to produce a coherent thought.

Sunday, September 1

The meteorologists have good news: Dorian has shifted course to the east.

I realize that I will likely be fine, but have now worried all my friends, family, and my dear Kate Beckinsale with what I once believed were my final messages.

To lighten the mood and let them know that all will be fine, I send them that video of the chimpanzee peeing in its own mouth. 

But like the urine in that hilarious simian's mouth, Dorian continues to swirl in the Atlantic.

Sunday, September 2

I have stockpiled water, including several cases of La Croiz sparkling water. My theory is that the hurricane will think I'm so cool that it'll stop by for a quick pop of Croix and then spare me. 

Certainly it is an unorthodox approach, but times like this call for such measures.

(Ok, maybe I exaggerated this whole thing just a little, but I do have La Croix...)

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