If you missed the first two sections, they're here:
Hurricane Diary
http://www.democraticunderground.com/discuss/duboard.php?az=view_all&address=105x3930126Hurricane Diary Part 2
http://www.democraticunderground.com/discuss/duboard.php?az=view_all&address=105x3932227Hurricane Diary Part 3
Don't remember exactly what time server went down yesterday. Found out it's routed through Gulfport, MS, which was under 4' of water at the time.
Except for momentary losses (a split second to a few minutes) we had electrical power the whole day.
Color me "amazed".
Sat here in the office and watched the storm blow by. It was, as they say, "impressive". Every time a particularly strong gust hit, I'd involuntarily hunch my shoulders and duck my head. ;-)
There was no lightning and little rain. Just a lot of wind. I heard whistles, hums, and buzzes out of this house that I've never heard before. What rain there was, was entirely horizontal.
Worst part was between 12 noon and 2 p.m., when Katrina was passing our latitude. The eye was about 130 miles to the west, near Bay St. Louis, MS.
Around 10 a.m., Miz t. said "There's somebody in the back yard!"
I stood up for a better view, and sure enough, there was a little guy standing near the shore. The wind must have been around 60 mph and I know the rain had to feel like buckshot.
"What the hell?"
He saw us and came up to the window. It's a guy we know who lives a couple of blocks inland. Absolutely unbelievable.
I motioned to him to come around to the front door. All bayside doors were shuttered and locked.
John is about 5' 2" and has THE worst Napoleon/Little-Man complex I have ever seen. He's always bragging about his exploits, his besting other men in business, his sports car, his motorcycle, his boat, etc., etc., etc. and he is b-o-r-i-n-g.
He lives a couple of blocks inland.
"John, what the hell are you doing?"
"Oh I LOVE this kind of weather. It's GREAT! BRACING! I've been sailing in a 15' dingy in MUCH worse weather than this. Come on out!"
"John, You. Are. An. Idiot. You could get killed out there. There's all kinds of limbs and debris flying around."
"Oh, I'm fine. In my element. Can I go out on your dock?"
"Hell no, you can't go out on my dock. It's under 4' of water. John, you're nuts."
"Well, not ON the dock, but can I just stand on the shore for a bit?"
"John, didn't you see those big broken branches in the trees? If one of those hit you in the head it'd kill you. Or you could get washed or blown into the bay. Jesus, man. Do you have a death wish?"
"Oh, I'll be fine."
"It's up to you, John, but I'm telling you that if something happens, I am NOT coming out there to rescue you. You are on your own. I am not coming out in this to save your crazy ass. I will call your wife and tell her that you're down, or have been washed out to sea."
"OK, fine. I'll be OK."
I looked into the driveway.
"Where's your car?"
"Oh, I walked. It was marvelous."
He stood out in the storm, his brave little face to the wind and rain, long enough to establish his image as a fearless heroic fellow who scorned Mother Nature's worst, then he left.
Words fail.
We passed the rest of the day watching the storm on TV and in reality.
I watched trees, pieces of other people's docks, and an assortment of flotsam float by. Occasionally a section would lodge against my dock, which gave me a few anxious moments. They could have pounded my dock to pieces, but each one was eventually dislodged by wind and wave action, and drifted on to the north.
Around 4 p.m. it began to slack off, and we knew the worst was over.
We got a phone call from Jeanne, down the street.
"We think we need a little Post-Katrina Survivors party. Carl's firing up the shrimp boiler. Whaddahya think?"
"I think you're damned right. Sounds great. What time?"
"The bar opens at 5, unless you can get here sooner."
Jeanne is one swell lady.
That's about it. We're fine, and no damage to the house. Just have a day or two of yard clean up.
End of diary.