Don't be like the 'Rob Lowe' me this hurricane season

I was driving in a bad storm the other day and it suddenly hit me: it's almost June. The start of hurricane season. It also hit me that I have no hurricane plan whatsoever. Not that I've ever had one in the past. But now that I'm an empty nester, doesn't that sort of let me off the hook?

When my children were younger, the plan usually was, maybe we'll leave, but probably not. I was a TV news reporter, after all, and I had to work (this was way back in the dark ages before Facebook and cell phones).

My job was to stand out in the howling wind and rain and tell everyone else how dangerous it was to be out in the wind and rain. And say things like, "Whatever you do, DO NOT come outside. Board everything up, stay indoors and batten down the hatches. Never mind that I'm out here leaning into the wind, or wading into thrashing waters to show you exactly what you are NOT supposed to do."

I never understood that. Did they somehow think that a TV microphone was protection against dangerous flying debris? I also never understood what "batten down hatches" meant. Do we even have hatches in Louisiana?

To show you just how prepared we highly trained media professionals are (and by that I mean, not prepared at all), I once went on a family vacation in October. We went to the beach because that's when hurricane season is over. Except that it wasn't. And Hurricane Opal decided to pay a visit to the Gulf Coast. Specifically to Navarre Beach, where we were on vacation.

At first, it looked like it was going to hit Mexico. We weren't really paying attention to weather reports, we were on vacation. And besides, the O.J. Simpson trial was the only thing on television anyway.

But one day, we walked out to the beach and the water had turned really choppy. There were also lots of clouds. We flipped on the Weather Channel (that was back when Jim Cantore had hair) and there it was — Cantore telling us there was a hurricane in the Gulf.

Still, it was a long way off and the models predicted it was going to hit somewhere down by Texas. The models, it turned out, were wrong.

Opal ended up heading right for us. Of course, we missed that announcement because like I said, the O.J. trial was on. We, like the rest of the planet, were anxiously awaiting the verdict to find out what we all suspected — that he did it. But he'd never get convicted.

That night, I woke up to a bad sound coming from the ocean. It was sort of like roaring and the waves had gotten really big.

When we turned on the radio, we heard the DJ yelling these exact words, which I am not making up, "If you are within the sound of my voice you need to get out! Anywhere from Navarre beach to..."

I caught only bits and pieces after that because I was madly dashing about, packing up baby items and babies and throwing everything into the car.

As we headed out, we realized we were almost out of gas. All the stations were closed because they had not been watching the O.J. trial and had evacuated. Thankfully, there was a convenience store with one person left inside who was about to close up.

I will never forget the look on his face when he told us we were the only ones left on the island and asked why we didn't leave earlier. He said the news reports were predicting this one to be really bad, a category 5, that could wipe away the entire area.

Well, it did. We found out the next day that the condo we were in was completely gone.

My point is, that hurricanes can catch even the most alert individuals off guard. So, don't be like the Rob Lowe me, get prepared. No matter what is on TV.