A NYC Hurricane Survival Guide For Twentysomethings
So in case you haven’t heard, there might be a hurricane coming for the big bad Apple this weekend. Hurricane Irene is currently kicking the crap out of The Bahamas right now and is said to touch down on North Carolina this Saturday, making its way to New England and (gulp) New York City as soon as Sunday. Of course, there’s a chance it may very well tucker itself out on Saturday, in which case, NYC should be mostly kept out of harm’s way. But if it doesn’t, be prepared for awful, no good, very terrible things to happen. It’s not the idea of a hurricane so much that scares me. It’s how New York is going to respond to it. I have an image of the city cowering in fear at the sight of it and trying to shoo it away by offering the hurricane drink tickets or a New York Times exclusive interview. “Please go away. Do hurricanes take Xanax? Someone get my pharmacist on the phone now!”
So here’s what you should do in order to survive this thing. You should follow Stephanie Georgopulos’ aunt’s advice first. Aunt Joy is a hurricane expert and knows what the hell she’s talking about so read carefully.
Make lots of ice…you can use it to drink as well as helping to keep your freezer and refrigerator cold if the power goes out.
Get paper plates, plastic cups and utensils to replace your regular stuff – you may not be able to wash dishes for a few days
If you lose power, shine a flashlight toward the ceiling to illuminate the entire room
If you have a grill, get lots of propane or charcoal – you have no idea what extremes you will go to if you’ve been without coffee for 2 or 3 days plus, you can cook food that is in danger of spoiling. You may wind up having a block party if everyone is in the same boat.
Consider getting a kit that will boil one cup of water chemically. Campmore has them.
Remove or tie down anything in your yard that may become a projectile.
Get lots of cash and gas
Get a book you’ve always been meaning to read.
It’s a dangerous time. Even afterward there may be no traffic lights, wires and trees in the road and obstacles everywhere you try to go. Stores will be closed, no ATMs and no electronic media will be working. Think of it as an adventure in the 19th century. Good luck.
Thanks Aunt Joy! You should also check respectable news sources (AKA not us) for tips. If all else fails though, you could always do the following things:
Scream, “Oh my god, a hurricane!” to the cashier at Key Foods. Start throwing bananas.
Call the person you have a crush on and be like, “This impending hurricane really reminds me of the hurricane I have in my heart for you. It’s like a Category 5 and I’m about to blow over. So can we have sex later?”
Make a grab bag of all your most important items, which should be your cell phone (OMG, all the sweet text messages you’ve received from your exes!), your computer, a box of Wheat Thins, your secret stash of drugs (It’s in your My So-Called Life lunchbox underneath your bed) and a locket of your lover’s hair.
Live- tweet the entire hurricane from your bedroom window. “Oh my god, the wind is insane right now. Update: My windows are shaking. Update: Oh my god, I think I’m about to be blown away. Update: Oh wow, I’ve been blown away! LOL. Don’t forget to #FF me!”
Cancel all of your OkCupid dates.
Tell your best friend that you hate them. Just kidding!
Quit your job. Why not? Take a crazy chance!
Spend hours screaming and pacing around your bedroom.
Refer to Hurricane Irene as a person in all of your status updates. “Irene would do this to me on the weekend I’m going out of town. Who the HELL does she think she is?”
Call your father on the phone and start calling him “Papa”.
Fail to do anything constructive. Blame everything on the economy. Wear cute outfits.
A | A | A
Nobody actually expects you to act like an adult for a while.
“What are you going to do with an English degree?”
I’m finding it hard to muster any sympathy for this asthmatic leatherneck. Instead, there is only contempt.
He noted that during trial, the women (we made up three out of the four mockers) mumbled to ourselves in between questioning witnesses.