Hurricane Irene arrived and left rather abruptly. Unlike most recent storms, this one brought no weeks of preparatory updates and projected tracks. Suddenly, there it was, due on payday, catching people short on supplies and cash. Then there was a mandatory evacuation for tourists and an order that those living in trailers "seek shelter."
Again and again, the radio announced that there were two shelters in Key West: The Harvey Building for Special Needs people and Glynn Archer for the rest.
By evening on Thursday it was rockin' pretty good and the rain was horizontalizing itself. By morning though, the Eye was upon us with its attendant calm, so I ventured out to Glynn Archer to check on the Shelter . . . and met Walter Mudgett. Walter's exactly who you'd want greeting you in the midst of a disaster: a genial Santa/Buddah with a ready reassuring smile and a happy howdy-do.
Despite the announced "curfew" mandating a town-wide shut-in until 3 p.m. on Friday, it was traffic as usual on White Street and Truman Avenue and the nearby bucci stand was open for business.
This made things tough for Walter Mudgett. He, of course, was trying to enforce the curfew while explaining to me that Glynn Archer really wasn't a "shelter," it was a "refuge of last resort." The difference? Shelters offer food and blankets. Refuges here are staffed by the Salvation Army and offer only a dry space and a roof over your head. Period. You're to bring everything you need. In other words, for everyone I saw, that meant "Curl up on the linoleum and ride'r out."
Of course, anyone availing themselves of a Refuge is subject to its rules. When I arrived, during the curfew, that meant staying inside . . . and staying inside meant "no food."
By 9 a.m. on Friday, Walter had checked in 88 people, most of whom had been there for at least 12 hours. These included an Hispanic family of 16 from a trailer park up the Keys, a four-month-old baby, an 88-year-old, two partial or double amputees, tourists who'd been tossed from their accommodations, and a variety of hobos, beach bums and "men of the world" . . . all now presuming that they would have no food until 3 p.m.
Walter explained that the nearest real Shelter was at Florida International University's Southern Campus, some 100 miles away!
Now, there's no arguing with the Curfew. The danger of electrocution is as real as the headlines out of Miami. It all seems silly until you or a loved one gets fried. Cynthia Edwards of the Key West Police Department points out that this was not some Gestapo action, but she laments that virtually no one complied and that "it's a miracle no one was seriously injured."
No, what we have here is a failure to coordinate and an unacceptable status quo. Lives are at stake! We all know that the hardest part about evacuating Key West isn't US 1, it's the fact that so many Key West residents have no means of evacuating (ie: a car that will make it to US 1!). That's as they say, a fact, Jack.
You simply cannot mandate that trailer dwellers or bicyclists "leave" and leave it at that. Where do they go? And what do they do with their pets? None are allowed at the refuges.
In a conversation with Priscilla Teasdale of Monroe County Emergency Management, she emphasized that any food, medicine or anything else that anyone wants or expects at a refuge must be provided by themselves.
Had Bill Jordan and John Gadonix not delivered free pizzas from Baiamontes during the "curfew", our "refugees" would have had nothing to eat for about 21 hours.
Right now, in the event of a life-threatening storm, there is no plan in place to facilitate the evacuation of local citizens who cannot drive themselves out of here. Remember what County we're in, folks. Check your rate of taxation. These are not "luxuries"— these are essential services.
If you're wondering where the Red Cross Shelters were, there weren't any here. A few years ago, Red Cross officials said they would no longer man the shelters, er, refuges here. Too dangerous. But they would, they said, be back to help out— right after the storm blows over.
So as we move into the holidays and you see the Salvation Army people with their bells and pots, cough up a few bucks. It could be, well, your salvation in the next storm.