A Love Letter To Florida: Be Safe Out There

There was once a man who lived in a house made of sand. For 50 years, he watched hurricanes come and go, unshaken, never once thinking to leave.

Then came Helene, the biggest hurricane he had ever seen. The townsfolk pleaded with him to leave, but after weathering so many storms, he refused. “I’m not afraid of a storm named after a woman!” he laughed.

Two days later, he was dead.

Turns out, feminine-named hurricanes are far deadlier than storms named after men. Apparently, this is because people perceive them as less threatening and fail to take them seriously. 

So, in plain terms: sexist ideals kill.

This week, the third most powerful hurricane to ever be recorded, named Milton, is set to slam into Florida. Not only does he sport a masculine name, but he also looks to be a very, very bad boy.

Milton was barely on the radar before October 7, but after a period of rapid intensification — fancy talk for when storms crank up their wind speed by over 35 mph in a single day — he shot up to a Category 5. Yesterday, wind speeds were clocked at a gut-punching 175 mph, leaving little time for thought, only the instinct to run. 

Hurricane Milton is set to make landfall by Wednesday night, and with the potential to be the most powerful hurricane to hit the state in over a century, scientists, government officials, and alligator enthusiasts alike have warned everyone to take fucking cover.   

It’s a rough time to be a resident of the battered Gulf Coast. Just two weeks ago, Hurricane Helene came barreling into Florida and then went on a joyride of destruction through Georgia, South Carolina, North Carolina, Virginia, and Tennessee. In the two weeks since it hit, this Category 4 monster has claimed over 230 lives, making it the deadliest hurricane since Katrina in 2005 — and that number is only expected to rise.

According to North Carolina resident Morgan L. Sykes, as of October 8, dead neighbours are still being discovered amongst the rubble. “The rivers are giving up the dead; landslides are yielding corpses,” Sykes told The Guardian, before turning their anger toward a government response that many have deemed shockingly inadequate. “The personal terror I felt that morning is nothing in comparison to the rage I feel for those lives unnecessarily lost, those displaced, and those struggling to access too few services — all while the government seems to prioritise the privileged.”

It’s hard to fathom that less than two weeks after Helene, the Gulf Coast is bracing for an even more intense storm. Milton is set to slam into Tampa Bay tomorrow evening, and as the clock ticks down, responders are scrambling to clear the wreckage left behind by Helene. 

Florida Governor Ron DeSantis has emphasised the urgency of clearing that debris before Milton arrives, warning it could become deadly projectiles. Forecasters predict an 8-to-12-foot storm surge — the highest ever for Tampa Bay and nearly double what Helene brought — prompting officials to order every resident in the region to evacuate.

“You have to evacuate; Hurricane Milton is not survivable,” said Sarasota City Mayor Liz Alpert.

However, the mass exodus has jammed freeways, leaving people stranded in a terrifying purgatory on the road. By Monday morning, gas stations were already running dry on fuel, further adding to the chaos.

It seems almost petty to look for someone to blame in the midst of this mess, as if pointing fingers could somehow ease the suffering brought on by these back-to-back, brutal weather events. But the villain isn’t hard to identify. All the elements fuelling storms of this intensity and frequency trace right back to the climate crisis — a collective narrative we’re all complicit in, and one that we can no longer afford to ignore.

Tampa Mayor Jane Castor told a news conference, “If you want to take on Mother Nature, she wins 100% of the time.”

The news of these severe weather events comes on the heels of our own road trip through the soon-to-be-affected areas. During our recent Stab Highway expedition, we followed a similar route to Hurricane Helene, but instead of societal destruction, we inflicted ruin upon ourselves. Still, we found ourselves smothered in the weirdness, the eccentricity, and the raw kindness of the Sunshine State. It’s hard to believe that an area so full of life is now facing complete devastation.

Life can turn to hell in a heartbeat. Our thoughts are with those already affected, and with those who are set to face Hurricane Milton in the coming days.

Stay strong, Florida. And brace for impact.