Why Hurricanes Suck- Part III: The Aftermath

The greater the difficulty the more glory in surmounting it.  Skillful pilots gain their reputation from storms and tempests. - Epictetus

Well, first and foremost, I can tell you hurricanes cause a physiological effect the morning after.  That effect feels a lot like a hangover.  However, through science, I have decided that the effect is really the prolonged exposure to low barometric pressure and humidity.  Either way, the morning after the hurricane felt like you had just gone through a hurricane.

I got up pretty early.  For some reason, Amy and the guys were still sleeping.  I opened the door from the bedroom, and it pretty much looked like the place had been through a hurricane.  There was water everywhere.  Parts of the ceiling were on the floor.  There were eight empty bottles of wine and an empty bottle of Jack Daniels.  I mean, I've been to some holy-shit level parties, but this was bad.  I seemed to remember the roof tearing off, and went out to see that yes, it was not the Jack Daniels.

Since the slackers were still sleeping, I decided to walk from Glenn's house to the Banyan Inn.  As I walked down the road, it was kind of like being in a Mad Max movie.  There was shit everywhere: cars on the side of the road, downed power lines, and pieces of buildings.  I saw a guy try to drive around a fallen power line and fell into four feet of mud, burying his car.  Every building had damage.  Every power line was down.  A sign, formerly a surf board, giving directions to my local pub, was gone.  As I approached the Banyan Inn, I had no idea what to expect.

When I first saw the buildings, I was like, "hey, they're still standing!"  As I started to get closer, I was like, "wasn't there a deck there before?"  "Wait.  Weren't there two doors there before?" 

The first thing that struck me was the fact that an approximately 2,000 lb. piece of our pool deck was missing.  Have no fear.  I found it soon thereafter, in the shallow end of the pool.  

As I wandered the property, the extent of the damage became apparent.  I Ain-Ga-Lie, it wasn't that bad.  (Side Note:  "Ain-Ga-Lie" is a local phrase we islanders use.  The phrase is described well by our local brewer, who named it's lager after the saying.  It is explained thusly: "Like many of the great story tellers before them, our local fishermen might not let a little thing like the truth get in the way of a good story, especially while sitting around the bar with friends after a long day at sea.  "I-AIN-GA-LIE that fish was as big as me.")

Put another way: it was bad.

What I wanted to see, however, was on the south side of the building.  As you know, one of Davin's and my first projects on the island was erecting a gutter system to help fill our cisterns.  We worked hard on the gutter's construction, even putting our limbs at risk with our terrible scaffolding.  I referred to it as the Banyan Inn Aqueduct.  I remembered our triumphant Banyan Inn Aqueduct in its glory:

I held out hope that Davin's and my work was not done in vain.  I held out hope that the monument of our beautiful days in the sun was still there. 

Alas, as I turned the corner, I saw that Irma, that bitch, had claimed her prize.

I like to think that the Banyan Inn Aqueduct Davin and I created fought valiantly against Irma.  In my expert opinion, I think the Banyan Inn Aqueduct served to structurally reinforce the roof of the Inn, and had the Aqueduct not been so magnificently crafted, the entire roof of the Inn would have been lost.  Lives perhaps were saved.

In any event, over the next few days, we cleaned up Glenn's house and returned ourselves, our dogs, and our stuff to the Banyan.  Ryan, Nathan, Richard, and Lee, found apartments just up the road and were able to move in.  We started to clean up the property and pull down the plywood from the boarded-up doors and windows.  Essentially, we undid a lot of the work we did to prepare the property for Irma.

About this time was when I learned the Part IV to "Why Hurricanes Suck": there are more than one.

Yes, we learned that in three days, Hurricane Maria would be hitting the islands.  Another "once-in-a-lifetime" Category Five hurricane was set to come again in one week.  At this point I really felt like Mad Max.  (After one nuclear war, what is one more struggle-to-the-death fight over a few gallons of gas.)  We steeled our resolve.

We decided to ride Maria out at the Banyan, since we still had the main room that had a serviceable roof.  Again we moved our belongings.  Again we boarded up the windows and doors.  Again we cut the power and water.  However, this time I was a little shaken from Irma.  There was no Jack Daniels.  I meekly prepared for the storm and thought that I would timidly await the coming hurricane bundled up with my tea.

But then I said fuck that.  My inner Lt. Dan was unleashed.  This storm was not going to define me.  I would not fear this storm.  This storm would not tarnish the five-star culinary and hospitality rating of the Banyan Inn.  No sir.  Not on my watch.  I immediately set about cooking our pre-hurricane meal of filet mignon, German potato salad (natch), and green bean salad.  I paired it with a soft, yet outspoken, pinot noir with a bold, yet subtle, oak taste with hints of chocolate and clove.

We weathered the storm without incident.  Truth be told, by the time Maria passed us, it was merely a tropical storm.  (Now that I am an islander, yes, I look down my nose at mere "tropical storms.")  We awoke the next day with the roof over our heads intact, our bed dry, and without hangovers.

So know this, future Banyan Inn guests: There may be sunshine or there may be hurricanes.  But we will never, NEVER, let our Five-Star standards suffer.  There will always be delicious food, rockin' tunes, and a 90% chance of survival every time you visit.

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