How to survive Hurricanes & the Living Dead in South Florida

Well my folks have survived yet another hurricane, a full on direct hit no less straight into the heart of Broward County. End result: Two days with no power and my Dad got his nose broken (long story). Given how it could have gone down i'm thankful that's all the tally came to. And so it begins, my families yearly ritual of surviving a series of natural disasters. The nervous radar season that begins late August and runs all the way into early October. I'll wake up and put on the news one day and there they'll be: The High Priests of Panic, strung out on the psychedelic colored throwing stars they've been tracking across the Tropic of Cancer for the last 24 hours. Then I'll watch the rainbow sherbert blob inch across the Bahamas, creep over Cuba and then either duck under the pan handle to sucker punch the Gulf states or watch it collide into the East Coast of the peninsula. Then there'll be the reporters they send out to cover the first strike live. Human sacrifices consisting of over eager tv reporters sent to feed the inhuman appetite of an angry storm god!:
"And we go live to Michael Fuentes who is standing at a beach for no other reason than to provide us with interesting viusals"
"For the love of God Karen why can't I cover the storm from the studio... I have a family for chrissakes...."
"You should have thought of that before you became a meterologis Michael..."
Meanwhile my parents have come to accept the ravages of mother nature as just another part of living in South Florida:"Hmmmm, it looks an oil tanker got flung into the middle school down the road again" My mom sighs like she just found a dead frog in the pool, inconvenient certainly but nowhere near life threatening. Oh well someone will just have to go down there and fish that tanker out of the playground. It's not that my family aren't prepared for the worst case scenarios, it's just that worse case scenarios just come with the territory along with all the other perils of South Florida living. Namely the Palmetto bugs rougly the size of small dogs & the migratory flocks of beligerent Canadaians who come down to clog traffic & remind Americans why they suck periodically.Luckily my parents have every contingency plan covered.
"The best thing about these shutters!" My dad is excited, patting the metal shielding that hangs like an open jaw over the windows, "They'll completely hold up in a zombie attack!" He's not serious of course. Well not a 100% anyway. See, this is where I get my love of zombie movies from. Both my Mom & Dad are avid aficionados of the living dead, so much so in fact, that no home was ever purchased or rented by them without first disucssing the pros & cons of defending the space against a possible zombie apocalypse.
"No, no, no. This won't do at all" My mom tells my Dad, pointing out the all glass door in the kitchen nook. "Jesus Christ! They'll be through that in a minute..." he turns to the landlady showing the place "Quick! Where are all the immediate escape routes located!" To this day I'll give every place I visit the quick once over.
"Yeah man, your place looks nice" I say taking in a friends wide backyard, the art deco bathroom & spacious living room, but the whole time i'm thinking:"Jesus Dude, four or five of those zombie fucks and they'll be marching right through that screened off porch and coming through those windows. And all the flowers in your garden will do naught to save you!'
Even at my new studio, The BUNKER, I had to give it a quick perusal to see how well she'd hold up in case of the inevitable flesh eating rampage.
"Just two windows! I can board those up in no time! Now show me all the immediate escape routes...".I've also learned over the years to treat Jehovahs Witnesses as practice for the Zombie invasion. Which answers quetions like 'How quick would it take to have a pack of brain dead automatons spot your hold out and begin beating on the doors?' or 'How long can I sit quietly in my apartment until they lose the smell of a human being and go on to easier prey?'
So it goes. Class Four Hurricanes & Tropical Depressions (which is what we used to call Goths in South Florida...)will continue to bombard the Orange state and my family along with it. But knowing that my family are ready for the gates of hell to open up and unleash it's cannibal masses, well a little stormy weather doesn't seem all that after awhile.