On the Gulf Coast, we always can count on Hurricane Season as a reason for pulling out necessary supplies like duct tape, ply wood, radio batteries and jugs of water.
But some other ingredients are missing that few people have not talked about in recent years. What about the rum? Lemon juice? The hurricane mix?
With the threat of Tropical Storm Bill Monday afternoon (and more importantly for students, the predictions of class cancellations), my friends and I planned to throw a party to celebrate the event.
Being not much for mixed drinks but always willing to try new concoctions, I looked up “hurricane ingredients” on an Internet search engine.
I found a result with the heading, “Student Hurricane Activities.”
Getting excited about what kind of new and fun hurricane party ideas created with the adventurous college student in mind I could find, I clicked on the link only to see information on how to conduct hurricane experiments.
Bummer. It seems hurricane parties are a thing of the past.
And rightfully so. Just last fall, Hurricane Lili clobbered Louisiana’s southern coast destroying homes, costing millions of dollars and leaving residents without power for weeks.
While my friends and I were busy drinking and partying to the sound of slight breezes outside during Hurricane Lili, my family members in the Lafayette area were dodging trees and not at all thinking about what drink to put in the blender next.
This got me thinking about where “hurricane parties” come from in the first place.
Residents on the Gulf coast have seen a few storms in their lifetimes. You think they would know when it’s time to pour the rum and when it’s time to head for the hills (in our case, the “hills” would be St. Francisville).
Authorities constantly urge residents not to “ride out” the storm at home and to follow proper precautions.
I determined no one in their right mind would decide to throw a hurricane party in Grand Isle during Hurricane Andrew in 1992.
Most residents are permanently scarred from the previous experience. My family, for instance, probably is somewhere in Arkansas running away from Tropical Storm Bill.
After Hurricane Lili, my dad chopped down any tree in the yard taller than him and my family doesn’t plan to “ride out” any future weather disturbance that a meteorologist can fit into a category.
So maybe the ones who originated “hurricane parties” were in safer areas outside the projected path and knew the only way they could be harmed would be to fall over while trying to dance to a Cajun song after one too many hurricanes.
The University of South Florida’s Hurricane Information Web site says “‘Hurricane Parties’ are only for the movies. Please do not drink alcohol. Everyone needs to think clearly during a hurricane.”
Well, as I write this, Tropical Storm Bill hasn’t reached hurricane status so that leaves everyone free to not think clearly.
I’m having a hurricane party at my place this evening and everyone is invited. And because I can’t find any online directions on how to make a hurricane drink, I guess we’ll just have to make fun, safe and educational hurricane simulators at home.
Hurray!