But I wanted my roof to blow off

Strange folks, Floridians.

Not content with being on the receiving end of 6 hurricanes in the past three seasons, not wanting New Orleans to have all the fun again, we embraced reports this past Sunday that Tropical Storm Ernesto had taken a sudden and unexpected turn north and was now bearing down on Florida, with the potential to become a Category 2 or 3 hurricane by the time it hit the peninsula.

In South Florida, and to some extent here in Central Florida, generators were snatched up at Home Depots. Batteries, water and nonperishable goods flew off the shelves at local supermarkets. Lines at gas stations became long and tiresome. ATM machines were busy. But by golly, we were preparing. Better late than never (hurricane season started June 1).

And for one brief, shining moment, Ernesto became Hurricane Ernesto, a very weak category 1 with 75 mph winds, which was expected to strengthen as it moved north of Cuba over the warmer Gulf waters, battering Miami and environs with 100 mph + winds.

And then a funny thing happened. Ernesto wimped out.

Never strengthening, and actually returning to tropical storm status, Ernesto hit South Florida and made its way north. By the time it reached Central Florida, it was only a tropical depression. Not exactly a light breeze, but with sustained winds of less than 39 mph - the speed needed to become a tropical storm - certainly manageable. And indeed it was.

Schools had closed all over Central Florida on Wednesday in anticipation of hurricane force winds. Some businesses and government offices followed suit. Heck, they had started moving the space shuttle Atlantis off the launch pad. Instead, all day we had mild wind and some rain squalls. Our office was officially closing at 3:30 Wednesday; mostly because we were expecting the worst of the storm to arrive between 5 and 6 p.m., but partly, I think, because the managing partner felt sorry for us folks in Orlando having to work all day while our offices in Viera and Fort Pierce (both on the east coast) had Tuesday afternoon and all Wednesday off in anticipation of the storm that never came. I left work at 4:30 that day, and quite frankly, I've driven in worse thunderstorms. I even stopped at the market on the way home. Althought it rained harder later, Ernesto was indeed a washout.

And then the most amazing thing happened. Instead of being grateful for the storm that wasn't, people complained that it was much ado about nothing. They were disappointed that nothing happened. They went out and stocked their hurricane kits FOR NO GOOD REASON (mind you we are only half-way throught the hurricane season). People questioned the credentials of meteorologists, who were as puzzled as we were, and of course the news media got slammed for making mountains out of molehills.

Me? I'm grateful that I'm safe and my apartment is intact. I now have an extra gallon of drinking water available, and a few extra cans of spaghettios. Central Florida got a good amount of rain which actually had a chance to soak into the ground and will ease the drought we've been experiencing this summer. And my renter's insurance won't get another hurricane deductible added to it like it did after the 2004 season. This time. Now the Carolinas have to deal with Ernesto, and I for one hope they fare as well as we did.

August and September are typically the worst months for hurricanes. With August now over, I prefer to think of Ernesto as a dress rehearsal for what may still be coming our way. Predictions were for 15 named storms, with a third of them being major. We're only through 5 names with no major storms yet. Floridians, don't despair. We still have many opportunities for another Andrew. I hear that was a blast.

Elevator oddities

Some days the highlight of my morning is watching how people behave when they're on or near elevators. (Okay, it's a pathetic life, but it's MY life.) Let me describe my qualifications for posting on this strange topic: I work on the 15th floor of a busy 18-floor office building. There are five elevators (well, six, but one is a freight elevator and GOD help you if you DARE press its call button and get on with just a cup of coffee). I frequently travel back and forth between the 13th, 15th, and 16th floors where my law firm has offices. At lunch, I generally leave the building (and most of the time return). In short, I use the elevator A LOT.

So after two years of observing folks, here are my musings . . .

Why is it that when people are on an elevator, and multiple floors are pressed, and someone gets off -- why is it that the person closest to the elevator control panel presses the button for THEIR floor to make the doors close? Do they think if they press the button for THEIR floor, the elevator will bypass the other three floors whose buttons are lit before theirs and magically stop only at their floor? Why not press the button for the next floor that's lit, that's where the elevator is going to stop next anyway. For that matter, why not use the "Close doors" button?

Why do people get on an elevator, knowing you're five steps behind them, and as you approach the elevator, the last thing you see as the doors close without you on board is their face staring at you - a blank stare, no desperate movement to press the "Open doors" button - heck, they don't even PRETEND to be nice, don't even attempt to appear frantically reaching for a button.

And why do elevator companies like the one who designed the elevators in my building line every single wall with metal so shiny it may as well be a mirror? Where are you supposed to look? You can't help but end up staring at someone, and then you feel self-conscious and end up staring up at the ceiling and feeling stupid for doing so, or staring at the floor and being mistaken for a shy and quiet person (okay, so I can't usually carry that off). I have two words for these companies: wood . . . paneling.

People don't usually talk to each other on an elevator. I can ride up 15 floors with two or three people getting off along the way, and not a word is uttered among us. Why is that? Is it because we're snobs? Stuck up? Shy? No, no, and no. I think it's because, well, they may be getting off at the 4th floor. Ten seconds is not exactly enough time to even say "Hi, how are ya" and maybe get a response. How meaningful is that conversation? We're both thinking, it's not worth my time or breath to say something to this person that I'll never see again and don't care if I see again.

However . . . maybe if more people took a chance, took the time, took that deep breath and said, "Good morning" to each other in the elevator . . . well maybe, just maybe, they'd put a smile on each other's faces, help each other face the day in a positive way, and peace and good will would come over the land.

Or maybe somebody'd just hold the @%^&@%@$ elevator door open once in a while.

I'm back...

It's been over a year since I've blogged, and there's so much to write about . . . elevator behavior . . . the geek conference I recently attended . . . being greeted by wild pigs during an airboat ride . . . my fight with Office Depot (which I won) . . . a weather piece I'll probably call "Ernesto, we hardly knew ya" . . . and other topics to hopefully entertain and enlighten you. Stay tuned. - L.