It is nearly 1am. I am hunkered down in my living room with three of my fellow storm trackers: husband SAM and two neighbor friends who joined us for dinner (one who is, in fact, a recent survivor of Gustave as it battered Baton Rouge one short week ago).
We are approximately 200 miles from Galveston, where the eyewall of Ike is hitting the island. But the distance doesn't stop us from feeling that we, ourselves, are in the wall of the eye, right along side Geraldo and the palm tree he is clinging to so desperately.
More frightening for myself, however, is a very recent development. My hurricane tracker compadres have all fallen asleep. Each one of them is in a reclining position conducive to sleep and occasional bursts of snoring, strewn across sofas and one large EZ chair recliner. Unfortunate for me, my storm tracking position is seated upright, clinging to one end of the largest sofa so as not to wake my sleeping couch mate. Not only is this position not conducive to sleep, it is not even comfortable.
So here I sit, lonely and abandoned, confronted with the untenable proposition of waking my neighbors and asking them to please go home so that I can retire to my queen sized post in the bedroom.
Back to you, Geraldo.