I remember when my son first told me about his plans to marry his fianćee on the beach near Duck in the Outer Banks of North Carolina. How romantic, I thought. I taught him well. He’s going to make for a great husband
Me: “Wait. When did you say the wedding will be held?”
Him: “September.
Ack!!! He just burst my NOAA weather balloon. Romantic as he may be, seems he missed a gene in the judgment department. My eyes rolled into the back of my head as I envisioned the dark cumulus buildup looming dauntingly over friends and family tripping over hurricane lanterns and scattering like sand crabs with a bad case of the crabs.
But that’s the worrier in me. Thank God he didn’t inherit that part of my DNA. “Fahgetaboudit!” That’s his take. He doesn’t worry about it any more than he would worry about a blizzard if they got married on a ski slope in Maine, a tsunami if they got married on surf boards in the Pacific, or a BP oil spill if they rocked the night away on Bourbon Street. Now, he might reconsider if it was the Mexican Riviera, since being jumped and robbed isn’t what they had in mind in the “till death do us part without our ATM cards”…part of their vows.
But I’m feeling the need for speed to sit down with the mother of the bride, biting my fingernails the whole time and trying not to twitch as we go over Plan B over three bottles of wine. I keep waking up in the middle of the night, note pad and pencil handy on my night table, jotting down things to remember to bring, or not bring, in the event of a hurricane.
With 6,504,222,450,960,472 sites on the Internet feeding off the fears of people like me, there are tons of survivor kits one can purchase for slightly less than a down payment on a full size Humvee. Really? A roll of duck tape for $37?
Wait…did someone say Humvee? That’s a great idea, in case we need to traverse over the wet sand dunes while being chased by the Spanish Mustangs of Currituck.
Now, mind you, I’m just as concerned about safety as the next person but, by gosh, there are just more pending, important items to consider in the case of nuptial mayhem.
Case(s) in point:
The power goes out. OhEmGee. What will happen to the music!? That’s where emergency acoustics come into play. Note to self: Make sure Grandpa brings that dusty old accordion out of the basement. Also, remind kids what a “polka” is. Amplifiers, shamplifiers…
Now would be a good time to scour the Sears ads for a good backup generator, one with at least 65 kilowatts. Better yet, that neighbor down the street whose house was demolished by that tree last week might be willing to work out a deal with the one he had. Oh, and as for so-called “hurricane” candles? Yeah, right.
“You distract them while I go for the cake…”
Vendors are a no-show. Sure, they’ve covered themselves already in the “not responsible for natural disaster” part of your contract, so they’ll be big pussies and not show up. No problem. Three words: box cake mix. Note to self: Bring son’s plastic, miniature baseball statue he got from cheap little league official for top of cake.
Mass (hysteria) communication. Leave voicemail on your answering machine for the 100+ calls you’ll be getting just prior to wedding. Leave verbal instructions: “Look out window. If there’s a hurricane, don’t come. But thanks for the gifts.”
Medications: Those three Xanax you stole from your sister aren’t going to cut it. Bring enough for three weeks. Lengthy evacuation routes may call for extreme measures and extreme partying. Also, you’ll be in a room with family members for over an hour, dontcha know. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.
Travel insurance: Family from out of town would be wise to purchase it. Of course, considering most of them will be stuck due to layovers for two days and probably won’t make it, the point may be moot. Note to self: Bring extra Xanax for Aunt Jane who is stuck on tarmac for 16 hours and not allowed to pee.
Storage items. Just bring anything with the word Ziploc on it.
What NOT to bring: Umbrellas. (You were actually thinking of bringing one, weren’t you? That’s so cute.) Baby diapers, formula, etc. You know why. Don’t make me say it.
So I know my list is not complete. But I have a few months to build up my personalized, bedazzled survival kit. I don’t want to be a Debbie Downer but, after all, I was a Girl Scout and learned to always be prepared. I know how to light a fire without a match. And that’s not a euphemism. I was also a Red Cross volunteer. Didn’t do much. Just ate the leftovers on the patients’ plates. But I looked really good in those candy striper outfits. No, that’s striper with one “p,” not two. Note to self: Explain term “candy striper” to kids.
So come hell or high waters that soak our Louboutins, we shall prevail. I don’t know what the next name will be for the hurricane d’season, but she’s not invited.
Note to self: Request Rolling Stones song from deejay…“Gimme Shelter”
CAT'S OUT OF THE BAG 