Sleeping with a Freight Train

I was in my favorite hotel on the Oceanside of Florida, when Hurricane Ian slammed into the Gulfside. I watched in horror as it demolished Sanibel Island, Ft. Myers Beach, and Pine Island, where my buddy’s house is located.

Ian lumbered across the width of Florida wreaking havoc and moving in a general northeast direction (towards me). By day three, it was close enough that I had sustained 40 mph winds all day until about 5:00 p.m. when the Eastern edge of the storm got to my hotel. 

Instantly, the winds increased to a sustained 80 mph (less than half of its initial 190 mph speed when it hit the West coast). Sustained wind speeds of 40 mph are amazing. Imagine driving at that speed for hours with your head out of the window. Double that where I am now.  

Immediately the hotel lost all power. (How many times am I going to flip the bathroom light switch before I remember that there is no power?) Did I mention that I had selected my favorite perch on the 16th floor? The sustained wind speed of 80 mph lasted, without any let-up, until about 2:00 p.m. the next afternoon. No power, no air conditioning, no lights, and the water pressure was down by about half. (You know you are “in it” when you can hear the wind blowing in the faucet when you run water.)

This hotel is built right on the beach and all rooms face the ocean with a sliding glass door to a balcony. The “man-door” is directly opposite the slider and goes out to an exposed walkway to the mid-building elevator (also not working). 

Sitting on the couch, watching in amazement as the sliding glass door bowed in and out repeatedly, and the door handle violently rattled was my only activity. At some point, I decided that before it got dark, I ought to go out the man-door and see if I had an emergency exit plan.

I am 6’1” and weigh a lot. I could not get the door open. There was enough air leakage in both the door and the slider opposite it, that a kind of suction was created each time I leaned into the door to push it open. 

After I got the slider open a crack, I was able to force the man-door open enough to get out onto the walkway and immediately wished I had not. The rain was diagonal, heavy, and traveling at 80 mph. The tile walkway floor was, of course, soaked, and my large body was trying its best to behave like a sail. Clearly, I had not thought this plan out well. In my mind, I thought of all those times we all have seen T.V. weather people outside in torrential downpours and crazy high winds reporting on a storm, and said to ourselves, what a dumb ass. I might have even said to myself… you dumb ass!

Fortunately, no one else was dumb enough to be out on the walkway on the 16th floor during a hurricane to see the large dancing bear on ice skates. 

Surviving this dumb idea and now, back on the couch, I decided to sit and enjoy the show. And then it got dark. Real dark. Black dark.

I first noticed the sound when I was back on the couch and felt rather like a rat in a trap. There was a freight train right outside my door!

When I was a boy I lived near a train track and would often put nickels on the rail when a train was approaching. The squished coins were amazing if you could find them. I always stayed close to the track so I could see which way the coin would go after it got flattened. 

The rumble and sound of those trains, rattling my bones, were the same as this wind. 

Normal cloudy nights at the ocean are a special kind of dark. Hurricane clouds and powerless hotel rooms are, you can’t see your hand in front of your face dark, pitch black. 

Have you ever tried to locate your combat-ready, super-duper, massively bright flashlight somewhere in your luggage in pitch darkness? I have. It never dawned on me until I found it and shined it on my phone, that i-phones have a light. 

Having had quite enough excitement for one day, I went to bed, right next to the other set of sliding glass doors in the bedroom which were behaving much like their twin in the living room. Yet another bad idea.

I spent the rest of the night on the couch in the living room listening to the angry freight train just outside my room.

Daylight (sort of) arrived just before 7 a.m. and the train had not let up. But hay, I did not get sucked out into the abyss during the night and that meant that coffee was in order….. oh wait…. I don’t have power! 

Now we have a problem. I tried the house phone, but it was not working. By about 9:00 a.m. I did not care about trains, power outages, dancing bears, or sixteen flights of stairs. Coffee!

I did have the good sense to take my keys with me, figuring I could sleep in the truck rather than attempt to drag myself back up sixteen stories.

Sixteen stories down are, by design easier than sixteen stories up BUT, it is not as easy as it sounds. I was surprised at how the last five flights were kicking my butt going down!

The lobby was deserted, wet, and dark. I hunted around and found the remaining two hotel guys in the back working on the emergency generator. Not a good sign. I offered to bring them coffee if I could find any and they both looked at me like I was crazy.  “Mr. Chuck, the power is out everywhere. Nothing is going to be open.” “Guys, I am going to find coffee. Do you want some?”

They both shrugged, so as not to be complicit in my demise over coffee.

Leaning into the wind, I got in the truck and headed out on my search. The boys were right. No cars, no humans, no businesses open, all up and down the strip. Also, it was trash day. There were blue and yellow fifty-five-gallon trash cans, and trash, flying everywhere.

Arriving at the causeway, I paused long enough to calculate my wind direction, sail factor, and drag coefficient. When a momentary break in the action happened, I mad dashed the truck across the causeway toward the mainland. At about the halfway point I thought I might lose my soft top, which caused me to consider my epitaph, “He died in his truck, like a man, blown out to sea by a hurricane while searching for coffee.” What a man! Everything, top, tires, and truck, stayed where they belonged.  Success!

Now on the mainland, the storm was less severe than on the sand strip where I started, and that’s when I saw it. The beautiful, wonderful, heavenly 7-11 sign, and it was lit. Shining like a beacon of hope. Thank heaven for 7-11!

I parked sideways along the building and went inside. The surfer boy clerk and I were all there was, except the wind & rain.

I honestly think he must have been talking out loud to himself because once I got the door opened and went inside it seemed like I was already in the middle of a conversation. Plus he was talking about as fast as the wind was blowing. 

“Dude! Check it out. The eastern eye-wall is gonna be here about 2:00 this afternoon!  That’s why I took the morning shift. Surf should be epic about them. (Big breath) See, the wind will be just right and the…. not many people know this…. but the sea mount here is perfect for right-hand tube rides. Big humongous rollers dude! What do you think?”

Taking all of this in, I wondered if he was doing a morning speedball or worse, had drunk all of the available coffee.

“Dude, you want some coffee? I just made a fresh pot.” I was glad it was a coffee rant. 

As I searched for and found, two of the largest “big-gulp” plastic cups in the place and filled them with fresh coffee, he never let up. “Haven’t ever seen bitchin wind like this before. It’s gonna be EPIC! Dude, you know those aren’t coffee cups right?”

I paid him an amount we agreed upon for big-gulp coffee and before I was out of the door he was back in front of his little T.V. absorbed by the latest storm track from the Weather Channel. 

Driving back across the causeway was mostly with the wind, so all I had to do was keep the truck straight and try not to spill any of my precious coffee. 

As I parked in front of the hotel, I began wondering how I was going to force open the hotel doors and not spill coffee. Fortunately, the two maintenance guys saw me and pried open the doors.

Once I was safely inside they were excited to report that they had pumped out the emergency generator room and had the generator running well enough to power the elevators (and I think, glad they didn’t have to write a report about the idiot guest who died searching for coffee). I thought about asking them how they had pumped out the generator room without the generator but hey, why question success? 

Excited that I was not going to be stranded in a wet lobby, I got on the lift and listened to the wind scream all the way to floor 16. I even made it into my room without coffee loss. Now I was set. Coffee – check. Emergency Tabasco Slim Jims – check. Can of Easy-Cheese – check. Let it blow!

As I conclude this story, mostly because the laptop battery is dying, I am left to wonder, did surfer boy get in any epic rides? Does 7-11 know how awesome they are? Is the power ever going to come back on? (I should have stocked up on Slim Jim’s while I was out.) Oh well, I am out of here and on to my winter home south of here where I hope there is power.

Author’s note:

This story is about my misadventures with this storm. It is in NO WAY written to make fun of, belittle, or minimize the awful fury of Ian. People died. Entire communities were destroyed. Lives were forever changed. I am horrified, and in awe of Ian’s incredible power to destroy. I am also a goofball nomad and this story only reflects my personal account of my near-miss with Ian.

This story’s proceeds are going to the Pine Island Relief Fund. I encourage you to find your favorite legitimate charity and make a donation. Ian was a terrible storm.