In the days leading up to Hurricane Ike's arrival, we were shown images from meteorological professionals "predicting" where the storm would hit. Not only did Ike cover the entire Gulf of Mexico, but it was said to be on a path for Corpus Christie, then it was going to slide past Houston and make a U-turn and strike south Houston, then we were told Ike was going to make a 90 degree right turn and hit Houston directly. To get a clearer picture of what we can expect, they cut to another satellite view... And I don't know what these silly maps mean or how to interpret them. There are 32 different colors swirling around like an acid-tripped watercolor from a 2-year-old and no one gave me 3-D glasses during the commercial break. The weatherman motions claiming, "This is where the heaviest rains are falling." Which? The blue squiggle or that yellow blob? What's the pink and orange carnation looking scribble mean? Is this system like the terrorist threat level chart? Reluctantly, I heed the soothsayers’ words and flee to the prairies of rural Dallas. Incidentally, The Weather Channel is the most watched cable network. Meaning that while 9/11 was being carried out, a portion of our fellow countrymen were watching "the weather."

Aside from the smattering of mind-numbing dribble, there is only one other aspect of hurricane coverage that I find entertaining. The time when our sturdy anchors (from either back at the station or nestled safely within a bunker) touch base with Fred; and there is a "Fred" in every major disaster. Fred has the lowliest job in the studio, because Fred is always the one sent out, most certainly against his better judgment, to "experience" the storm from the front lines. All so that we at home may visualize the effects of being in the "splash zone" without soiling our ponchos. Decked out in his signature yellow raincoat and Nor’easter cap, Fred is easy to spot in the most inclement weather. His typical broadcast is given while being blown sideways clutching a stop sign; further proof that this is a genuine "Fred." "How are things out there?," our anchor prompts with a smile. You and your friends can make a game out of this interview by betting on when Fred will lose his hat, fall down, let go of the stop sign and become airborne, guesstimate the velocity to altitude ratio, or is left stranded by the camera man. Or, my other favorite is predicting when our well-groomed anchor will inform us that, "It seems we have lost contact with Fred." An unfortunate, yet foreseeable, occurrence that will undoubtedly happen at least once during every segment. But don't you worry, they have another "Fred" on standby.

I have always been under the impression that a Super 8 Hotel is capable of withstanding any sort of abuse imaginable; from unruly teenagers to chain smokers, the homeless to hookers, and all conditions of wind, rain & wild animals. As of Saturday morning, in the small town of Buffalo Beau, my theory was shattered as a news crew was live on the scene to oversee damage at the Super 8. An authentic windswept reporter interviewed a Mr. John Morrison who, with his family, felt the brunt of the storm overnight. The reporter mentions that Mr. Morrison was in room 216, and to visualize, the camera zooms in, there, the room with the beam through the front window and the roof pulled back like the lid of a tin can. Our next image is of Mr. Morrison, grinning ear to ear. "What were you thinking as it happened? When did the roof open up? What did you do?" I think it's obvious, Mr. Morrison is wondering if there will still be a complimentary continental breakfast across the street at Motel 6.

Next, we move southward, to the east-end of downtown Houston. The camera pans across the streets of this urban historic district, where every building's name includes "The Old" or "The former." We focus on The Old Ponderosa, a lavish hotel known for its large decorative windows and grand ball room. Over the muffling of the wind, our man on the street ponders who does or does not have electricity. We can see through the blown out windows of the grand ball room that the ceiling fans are still turning at full speed. Apparently the 90 mile an hour winds from the night before were not creating enough of a breeze to stir up the musty patrons of The Old Ponderosa.

One block over, surveying the dangling traffic lights, twisted trees and lamp posts, and the sea of crushed glass that glistens like melting ice in the morning sun; we see onlookers searching for direction. We catch up with Rebecca Garrison who is visiting from North Carolina. Like clockwork, our guy asks Ms. Garrison what the night was like for her. This question is too generic and fails to meet my journalistic standards. For example, I would ask, "Ms. Garrison, we and the viewers at home are happy to see that you rode out the storm unscathed. Now that the storm has passed, when you walked outside this morning to evaluate the destruction; What were the first 2 words that came to your mind? And, was the first word 'oh' or 'holy?'"

By this point, I haven't left my couch in three days. Rendered immobile by my own sense of self-inflicted panic. The constant barrage of "information" has done me in, leaving me severely traumatized. The worst of Ike has passed, however awestricken waves continue to wash over me. I breathe again and we go live to Sam Strickland of the Emergency Management Center to explain the clean-up process -- I think. Mr. Strickland runs through a laundry list of talking points for the press to nibble on: road closures, downed power lines, EMS Services, water, fire, flooding, feed the elderly, boiled children, dogs in a tree, low flow shower heads, a stuck pick-em-up truck... Wait, what? Wow...

From all of this, there were only 2 statements that I caught intact. First: If you do not have power, your electric can opener will not work. News to me. Second: Mr. Strickland explained that due to a loss in water pressure at one of the pumping stations, if you still have running tap water, do not drink it. Or if you must, boil it beforehand. Officials believe that the water supply is not contaminated; however residents should continue to take proper precautions. This statement was immediately met by the question, "Is the water supply contaminated?" I equated this to being able to ask God one question that you would get a clear and unwavering answer to. One that He had to answer. So you think and think and think; and you are convinced you have the best question possible. So, you make an appointment with God, eventually He calls you in and you ask, "Umm, excuse me? I've been searching long and hard..." Yes, my child... "Where's the bathroom in this place?"

Just before I blacked out, thinking that things couldn't possibly get any worse; what with flooding and power outages... I was sadly mistaken as the weekend weather guy said with gusto and in his best baritone of a movie trailer voice: "The worst is not over yet, there is more trouble on the way as a massive cold front moves in, where the H-I-G-H will "only" be in the low 80's.

I wish I had the energy to make all of this stuff up.

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(a.k. 09.13.08)