MyStory

Hurricanes > MyStory

by Warren the Webmaster

Today is Sunday October 30, 2005, a week after Hurricane Wilma hit Fort Lauderdale. I remembered to turn my clock back to Standard Time. The City of Fort Lauderdale suggested that children remain at home after dusk tomorrow (Halloween). Broward County schools remain closed...

Like everyone else, I had grown tired of hearing the endless warnings about Hurricane Wilma on TV during that third week of October 2005. While at The Firm Fitness Center, I saw the TV from my treadmill vantage point screaming "The lowest barometric pressure ever recorded from a hurricane." A day or so later the meteorologists said that the storm would pass near the Yucatan Peninsula in Mexico and then make a U-turn to South Florida, being shepherded by a strong upper air mass coming down from SW Canada.

True enough. The storm hit Cancún and stalled there for 2 days. Incredible winds. Incredible flooding. The TV reiterated that Hurricane Wilma was now headed to the southwest coast of Florida (Naples, Sanibel, Fort Myers, the Keys) and then would weaken as it came across the Florida peninsula to SE Florida. "Not to worry," I thought.

On Sunday October 23, 2005 there were frantic warnings on the TV to evacuate the Keys (Monroe County) and also to evacuate from areas west of Route 41 (Tamiami Trail) in Collier County (Naples). 15 foot flood surges were the buzzword of the moment. On that Sunday night I went to bed in my Coral Ridge Towers East apartment, apprehensive but re-assured. "The storm will weaken as it moves across Florida. SW Florida will have major problems but we are in Fort Lauderdale on the east coast so why be unduly concerned." Or so I thought.

Around 3 a.m. October 24, 2005, I noticed a pickup in wind speed. Nothing much but certainly noticeable. Got up early, turned on Hurricane TV (every channel), had a leisurely breakfast, watched more Hurricane TV. Around 7:30 a.m. all hell broke loose. The winds got very strong, the building began to rumble, my windows began to flex(!) and I was spellbound. Rain came in sheets across the parking lot and the winds got stronger and stronger.

I looked out at the parking lot. Someone moved the cars. I thought I was seeing things. Why are the cars all over the place? Then I thought my windows were on the verge of being sucked out. They were flexing quite noticeably. So I decided to walk in the corridor to stay out of harm's way. Be brave. Go down into the lobby to see if other residents are about. So into the elevator (would it stall?) and down to the lobby.

The lobby was a shambles. Many of the windows were pulverized, the lobby was flooded, the pictures were demolished, the furniture and carpets were all over the place and soaked. An inch or two of water was on our beautiful lobby floor. Shards of glass were everywhere. The newly installed computer and security system shamefully bared its wires for the whole world to see.

People mentioned windows blowing out, flooded apartments, damaged possessions and bruises and cuts. A few hours later the electric went off and the tap water ceased to flow. The storm began to pass in the afternoon.

I wandered outside and saw devastation everywhere. Our beautifully landscaped grounds were no more. The giant shade tree next to the pool got a complete buzz cut. Debris was everywhere. The tar paper from our roof now graced the neighborhood. I had purchased food earlier just in case. The "just in case" was now here.

For dinner I had tuna-in-can with crust of bread in a lovely twilight setting. Went to bed early. Into the night my land line rang (it never stopped working and my cell phone never stopped working - not true for many others). An automated message from the City of Fort Lauderdale announcing a mandatory dusk-to-dawn curfew came over the land line.

Breakfast at sunrise. Dried Kellogg's shredded wheat (whole grain) with warm orange juice plus vitamin pill. At this point I grabbed my digital camera and went outside to take as many pictures as possible before my chargeable battery went dead. For lunch I had French Onion Sun Chips with banana and self-defrosting blueberries. Took more pictures and then the camera went dead.

Our Board, staff and resident volunteers began to post notices and assist with the management of the building. They did a yeomen's job, dealing with cleanup, flared tempers, calls from up north, people unable to help themselves. The parking lot was a shambles so I volunteered to take a wide broom and clean up metal and shards of glass. For dinner I had dried Pepperidge Farm crust of oatmeal bread, Dole pineapple chunks in its own juice and Chicken-of-the-Sea tuna with Frito Lay French Onion Sun Chips. Warm Canada Dry Diet Cranberry-Ginger Ale served for dessert and for brushing my teeth afterwards.

The toilet was intriguing. During the storm the water level in the bowl went down and down and down and then gradually went right back up. Huh? After the storm it was necessary to get buckets of water from the pool to load the toilet tank. The residents of the building met and talked at the pool while getting water. I had a flashback to a sketch in a high school history book showing people in a small village pulling water from the well while getting the latest scoop on all the news.

I shaved using a pint of pool water poured into a small plastic bowl. I showered hospital style using a cloth, Johnson's Baby Shampoo (it doesn't burn the eyes) and a splash of pool water peppered with fronds in my bathtub.

The electric at CRTE came back 3 days later as did the water. Warnings were everywhere (and remain at this writing) not to drink the water as is but boil it first. Most of Broward County remains without electric. Some areas will stay that way until Thanksgiving.

All the traffic lights are dead. Many blew away altogether. The new driving regulations are "If you come to an intersection that used to have a light, treat it as a 4 way stop sign. Or risk a $200 fine." At all major intersections you can make a right turn only and then make a U-turn several hundred feet down the road where U-turns are then permitted and then another right to go where you were headed in the first place (it actually works rather well).

There is at the moment no gasoline, mainly due to the fact that the pumps need electric and there is none. A few stations have generators. Lines of cars (some for miles with 3-4 hour waits and limited fill ups) and road rage are the order of the day.

The Winn-Dixie across the street opened 2 days after Wilma. Waited in line for about an hour to get in (only 20 people at a time). Anything requiring refrigeration was gone. Dry goods were plentiful. But the highlight on the same day was the re-opening of McDonald's down the street. Junk food at present is a godsend. McDonald's was my night out. I had 2 hamburgers minus bun with a frozen yogurt parfait for dessert.

A local store demolished by Wilma. The children are actually a metal sculpting that was for sale. Ditto for the elephant. Shards of galss are strewn across the floor.

I am looking forward one day to again having ground turkey, orange juice, doctor and dentist offices, soy milk; to being able to walk across the street to the bank; to fill up my car with gasoline; to once again watch TV. My car survived except that the glass in the side view mirror got blasted. But I am happy to report that the side view mirror holder remains.

Afterthoughts on Hurricane Wlma. Today is Thursday November 17, 2005, almost a month since Hurricane Wilma hit Fort Lauderdale. It is the week before Thanksgiving...

Life has slowly returned to normal. The supermarkets are now well stocked. Traffic lights have been partially re-installed but the lights are often out of sequence or "mis-firing." One light in Pompano gave 15 seconds to Federal and several minutes to a tiny cross street. Another light on Oakland Park Blvd was stuck on solid yellow. And down by the Fort Lauderdale Airport, the light for Federal was seconds long while the cross street was several minutes. High quality road rage was evident at all locations.

Our cable TV came back a few days ago. The volume oscillates on some stations and some stations are missing (but hey, it is back). The banks have re-opened. The remains of trees and structural debris have begun to disappear from CRTE but are still in evidence elsewhere in Fort Lauderdale and vicinity.

The giant shade tree near the pool under which residents lounged while enjoying each other's company is now firewood. A lumberjack came, sawed and conquered right after the storm. Other trees were removed or trimmed. There is a feeling of openness with a commanding view of A1A and the ocean beyond as I look towards the ocean from my apartment; the view was formerly blocked by trees.

Our lobby has been partially restored. Many pool lounge chairs had the plastic ties ripped out even though they had all been "tied down." Some chairs are partially back in service. The grounds are beginning to look attractive once again, thanks to the staff and resident volunteers. Many windows remain boarded up with cardboard and plywood at CRTE and everywhere else. The club house veranda is open to the sky inasmuch a the awnings and supports were destroyed.

Damaged cars have slowly re-appeared with previously shattered windows replaced. Insurance carriers plus owner's deductibles have yielded brand new cars in place of those which were totaled. The parking lot has a semblance of normalcy. And the restaurants across the street and everywhere else are back in business.

The freeways are running at their usual(?) speed once again. The dashed lines for traffic lanes are still there, but are hard to divine at night (stretches of lights are out along the sides of freeways). Some billboards have been replaced. Many overhead directional signs are broken or blew away.

The large overhead sign (and its steel support structure) showing the entrance to I-595 on US1 just north of the Fort Lauderdale Airport has vanished; tourists (and others) are often on the sides of US1 in that general area in utter bewilderment as to how to get to I-595. The overhead exit sign for the Port of Miami and all the cruise ships on the MacArthur Causeway retains its solid green surface but the lettering is gone.

Along the side of the road in Clewiston (US 27 near Lake Okeechobee) are piles and piles of debris from Wilma awaiting roadside collection. Further south on US 27, as one approaches I-595 to head back to CRTE, there are no signs that I-595 even exists. If you find the I-595 entrance, the ramp splits into 3 directions. But all the overhead signs have blown away. One road goes to Fort Lauderdale, another to Miami and another to Naples. Guess which curtain has the prize. If the correct guess is made and you are now on I-595 E, there are only shattered overhead signs and no speed limit signs - every speed limit sign has blown away.

Went to visit a friend in the Palmaire complex (near Powerline and Atlantic) and was taken aback by the barren landscape. Driving along A1A one sees plywood and cardboard in windows in most buildings, both high-rise and low-rise. That includes Palm Beach, Boca Raton, Deerfield Beach, Pompano Beach, Lauderdale-By-The-Sea, Fort Lauderdale, Dania, Hollywood, Hallandale, Bal Harbor and Miami Beach. Downed street lights, damaged structures, and blown-off roofs are still in evidence. Driving on side roads is challenging (more so at night) due to continuing debris, stopped-up drainage and mistimed and misplaced traffic lights.

As I was driving across the Broward-Palm Beach County Line on Federal (just north of Hillsboro) I saw the remains of a large marina, squashed and distorted. Scores of yachts which had been stored in the marina for safe-keeping became airborne during Wilma. The yachts are now resting comfortably high up in the trees. Police are guarding the site.

Walking along the Galt Ocean Mile on the beach, one can see buildings with damaged windows and damaged balconies. Twisted storm shutters and storm shutters that blew away in pieces, damaged sea walls and twisted metal pool gates are everywhere. One high-rise had the walls of its penthouse blow apart. Another high-rise was unscathed, probably due to the fact that it was built under new building codes.

Our CRTE pool was drained and cleaned by staff and volunteers. The pool has been re-filled for all to enjoy once again. Broward County and FPL trucks are trying to get the traffic lights and electric back. Most of Fort Lauderdale has power. Vehicles from many US states and Canadian provinces are at intersections and along roadsides restoring this and that. Debris removal is a gold rush business.

Word has it that Wilma was a "high Category 1/low Category 2" when it hit CRTE. The City of Fort Lauderdale ordered that only mobile home owners were to evacuate. Some of those mobile homes later moved about, fell over on their sides or flipped upside-down.

Like almost everyone else, I am originally from up-North. And I always wondered why people evacuated when a hurricane was on its way (after all, it's just some wind and rain). I can now share with you that if Fort Lauderdale were to order a mandatory hurricane evacuation in the future, I will evacuate.

And if the storm heading our way is a strong Category 2 or higher, I shall evacuate our beautiful barrier island at warp speed.

- Warren the Webmaster

PS. Hurricane Wilma actually made landfall in a sparsely settled area of SW Florida called Cape Romano, which is about 22 miles south of Naples, FL. At that moment Wilma was a Category 3 hurricane with wind speeds of 125 mph. Wilma then moved rapidly across Alligator Alley (I-75) at about 25 mph and slammed into Fort Lauderdale with wind speeds in excess of 100 mph. Wilma had the lowest barometric pressure in all recorded history in the North Atlantic Basin: A category 5 storm at 894 mb of pressure.