Musings of an Key West Evacuee

Musings of an Key West Evacuee

The tears were rolling when I placed the last protective aluminum panel on the front door of my Key West residence. I stepped back and took a cell phone photo of the front of my house devoid of its many plants, the US flag and the Conch Republic flag. My travel gear was lying on the front porch in symbolic fashion. Erikas, Karolis and I pulled out of Key West and began our journey. The trip out of the Keys was disconcerting. No gas stations open, businesses abandoned and no Southbound traffic. After eleven hours and stressing about gasoline availability, we pulled into an Orlando hotel at 4:30 in the morning. We awoke three hours later and reached a collective consensus that we needed to move on to Atlanta. I have wonderful friends willing to host Erikas and Karl. After a total of twenty five hours on the road, we pulled into Stone Mountain after midnight. We embarked on our journey as friends and ended it as a tight band of brothers.

I flew out to St. Louis the next afternoon leaving my brothers behind in Atlanta. Finding myself alone for the first time since this nightmare started, I broke down in tears on the train at the Atlanta airport. A day later, Irma had started her destructive approach and my anxiety and worry level grew exponentially. What would become of the friends that chose to stay behind? Then, it happened. No communication. I watched the Weather Channel incessantly for the first time in my life. Again, the tears were rolling down my cheeks. I found sanity in communicating with other evacuees on Facebook. All of us were sick with concern.

Eternity took on new definition as I awaited communication as to my friends’ safety. Finally, a landline call from the Royal P, a Cat 5 structure, where many of my pals sought refuge. They were safe. More tears. What about the others at the Marriott, the LaConcha? No answers…hell on Earth. Trying to find some sanity on Sunday, I went to the local gym to workout. I missed a landline call from Karen Frank-Noll and cried more when I could not get back through to her. I tried the Royal P and Marriott landlines incessantly in OCD fashion. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Days and hours passed. I worked ten hour days accomplishing nothing. All my time was focused on people’s safety and sighting confirmations to share on Facebook.

Finally, it came. The landline call from Thomas Ryan and Jon Baird from the Butterfly Conservatory. No questions as to property, just safety sightings. Many remained unaccounted for and the pervasive concern was not letting up. Tuesday evening, I noted Karen had internet access. The tears were back once again. I told myself that as a adult male in my 50’s, the crying was ridiculous, but that did not make it stop.. Karen and I had a long text exchange where I was able to relay the safety of several friends.

I went to bed. I felt so extremely fortunate and blessed. Simultaneously, I felt tortured and totally alone. I was trapped 1,500 miles away from those with whom I am closest. I want desperately to return to help pick up the pieces and be with those I love. I am fully aware that is irrational and I need to contribute by staying away.

For me, that is the definition of hell. We are One Human Family. We are Key West Strong.