Dispatch from the Cone of Uncertainty: Hurricane Idalia

By the time this hits your inbox, Hurricane Idalia will have made herself fully known.

At the moment, she is sweeping her thick, saggy arms across Florida’s Big Bend after organizing herself into a Category 4 behemoth early this morning, fortified by the warming waters of the Gulf of Mexico like an overly enthusiastic bridesmaid sucking down tequila shots. 

This bruiser of a storm promises to barge into south Georgia later this afternoon to whip us with wind and puke down massive amounts of rain, though we won’t know how much damage she’s caused by partying in Savannah until she’s left town, much like the aforementioned bridesmaid.   

We’re all just hanging out in Idalia’s Cone of Uncertainty for the next few hours, hoping she won’t catch a stiletto in the cobblestones and pass out in a storm drain. Are you a hurricane, honey, or are ya a “hurricaint”?

Idalia’s Cone of Uncertainty as of Wednesday 11am EST

By the way, we don’t care how the TV people pronounce it; every Southerner knows “Idalia” rhymes with the Georgia onion capital of Vidalia—as in “vy-DAY-ya,” no discernible “L.” Then again, she ain’t from around here, so who knows how she’d like to be addressed? 

Speaking of which, isn’t it time we stopped gendering hurricanes? I get that NOAA says it  makes communications easier to give storms “short, easily remembered names”—um, have you ever met an Idalia?—but there’s literally hundreds of non-binary monikers to bestow on our hurricane babies. I mean at the very least, can’t we keep the weather neutral? 

In any case, Idalia’s wet n’ wild demeanor is starting to show. Lots of Labor Day weekend plans are screwed; our cousin’s flights from New York and California were just canceled, along with schools for the next few days (my deepest sympathies, parent friends!)

Outside, the drizzle is transitioning to a downpour, and after that first thunder boom! the dogs just staked out the darkest real estate under the bed. (If Donut doesn’t stop licking her paws neurotically, she’s going to find herself in the Cone of Shame.)

Naturally, the Nextdoor app and various neighborhood Facebook pages are lit up with armchair weather experts, but the wisest among us know the only source of intel worth its saltwater is Enki Research. Powered by international data nerd and local hero Chuck Watson, this fount of projected pathways and thoughtful analysis separates the hurricane from the hype, issuing measured warnings but no guarantees: Power will go out, tree limbs will fall, and people will panic. (The shelves Red & White appear already relieved of bottled water, toilet paper, and peanut butter.) 

The latest Enki dispatch parses the wind from the rain, predicting flooding in the usual places and a possible tornado as Idalia deteriorates from dragging her soggy ass across the land—once again like our dear, disastrous bridesmaid. 

Preparations are vital, and we’ve still got time to stock up with batteries and beer, pull in the porch furniture, and spread the love. A check-in with Father Michael Cheney divulges that several dozen of our houseless neighbors could use supplies at St. Michael’s Church on Waters, and the good folks at Emmaus House can always use donations of clean clothing and cold, hard cash. 

Hopefully the rest of y’all are sheltering with people you love, or at least those who can mix a mean martini. (If you’re looking for company, slicker up and head over to Pinkie Masters or Lone Wolf Lounge.)

In the meantime, may Idalia’s bleary eye pass us by with a minimum of drama and damage. And remember, no matter what you hear, it’s “I-DAY-ya.”

Y’all keep safe and dry ~ JLL

Got my eyewall on y’all