Hurricane season is finally over. Did Miami learn anything?

Did Hurricane Irma knock some sense into Miami? Probably not.
Did Hurricane Irma knock some sense into Miami? Probably not.

The best day in the life of a Floridian is here. No, Tom Brady hasn’t retired. Better than that: Hurricane season is over.

For now.

Nov. 30 marks the end of the worst hurricane season in Florida’s recent history. We’re ready to settle down and admire lawns bereft of debris and pools shimmering brightly in all their fully-chemicaled glory.  Look, it’s practically Christmas – Floridians aren’t going back in those pools until June. But we still prefer them sparkling.

But did Irma teach Miami anything? Did we learn from battling our way through the long lines at gas stations, the mass exodus northward, the swelling panic, the horror of eating all the good hurricane food like Cheetos before the power even went out?

Here’s what we should have absorbed and probably didn’t.

Amazon two-day delivery is fiction.

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The first 100 people who thought of ordering supplies from Amazon thought they were killing it. The next 100 thought, “Why the hell are we getting all these batteries in October?”  Irma was the first Amazon hurricane, and we learned the hard way that you can’t always get what you want in two days no matter what promises are made. Amazon’s employees apparently need time to wait in line at Home Depot to buy plywood, too.

Don’t return that plywood you bought. Just don’t.


Come on. You know you’re going to need it next hurricane season. Find a place to stash it. Save your hurricane prep time for purchasing extra Cheetos.

You don’t actually have to buy water.

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Hector Gabino el Nuevo Herald

Note to Miami: WATER COMES OUT OF YOUR FAUCET FOR FREE. Fill up all  your pots and pans. We know you have them because you were banging them in the streets after the last Heat championship.

People are going to judge you whether you go or stay.


Hurricane Irma not only took down half the trees in South Florida but also brought out a full-force gale of hurricane shamers. Here’s what we know: The people who don’t live here scream hysterically at you to GET OUT if you’re staying, and the neighbors who don’t evacuate sneer behind your back if you pack up the car and head out of town. There is no winning, so do what you want and expect the worst. Because people are the worst.

Evacuating to another part of the state doesn’t always work.

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Driving a couple of hours west or north when the storm covers the entire state is probably pointless. If you’re rich, suck it up and book a ticket to wine country for a few days and hope there are no wild fires. If you’re not rich, batten down the hatches or buckle up and drive. Either way, it’s going to suck.

Traffic is really horrible when you evacuate to another part of the state.


I hope you made some good playlists and packed a few gallons of gas. I-95 and Florida’s Turnpike during a hurricane watch make the Palmetto at rush hour seem like a lazy, blissful  ramble along the shore.

That generator you’re counting on is definitely going to fail.


So you planned on using a generator that hasn’t left your shed since the Clinton administration. How shocking that something went wrong. Maybe next year throw caution to the wind and give it a dry run in June? Nah. Let’s just wait and hope for the best. That’s the Miami way.

No matter how many times you tell them it’s a bad idea, some people are still going to put tape on the windows.


Like driving slow in the left lane, it’s a Miami tradition.