So Tuesday officially marked the beginning of June, and thus also welcomed us into the beginning of Hurricane Season here in the Sunshine State.  The NOAA is predicting that 2010 will see an “above normal” level of hurricane activity with conditions that resemble some “very active” seasons from years past.

Upon hearing this news, the average Floridian replied, “Meh…” and will do precisely nothing to prepare for our potentially imminent destruction…

And don’t be deceived – hurricanes are bad! Think like the movie Twister, but also with lots of water, and alligators replacing the cows that were sent flying through the air like Frisbees … sorry, Tornado Belt folks, but when push comes to shove, getting hit in the face with a giant reptilian beast with even more gigantic teeth trumps getting hit in the face with your average dairy cow any day of the week!  I think even the cow would agree with that particular allegation…

Nonetheless, I guess it’s not that we don’t care … well, ok – for some of us that’s exactly what it is … but I think for the majority it’s just that we don’t care in any resemblance of a preparatory fashion. Call it a result of overly embracing our laid-back, beachfront lifestyle, or maybe just eight too many margaritas, but unless those 120mph winds are literally knocking on our front door (while floodwaters are simultaneously slipping in underneath), somehow the threat of having to kayak down the block just seems too farfetched to be worth the hassle of actually getting up and going to the store.

Then again, not for nothing, but it is really hot here in Florida in the summertime!  I mean, seriously – who wants to go lugging around cases of water and extra sandbags when it’s 95 degrees in the shade outside?!  Forget that…

Of course, unfortunately the end result of our storm-surge-oriented apathy here is that when it does come time to batten down the hatches and ensure the survival of our wee suburban communities, it’s damn near impossible to buy little more than an empty water jug and some stray Pop-Tart crumbs because at this point we’ve been succinctly beaten to the punch by a quaint, little group of paranoid residents that I like to refer to as The Overly Prepared. You’ve probably seen them around – these are the same folks who put blankets over their bushes and spend their afternoons enforcing the local HOA guidelines, and whereas the rest of us would be satisfied with a case or two of water and a few canned goods out in the garage, these folks won’t rest until they’ve got enough reserves stored up in their hurricane bunker to refill the swimming pool from scratch and rebuild city hall entirely out of tin cans!

In this particular setting, you’ll see them as you come walking out of the store empty-handed, each member of the family pushing a separate shopping cart brimming with cases of water and canned goods as if they’re stocking up the Great Pyramid, the only comic relief left being in watching them try to fit several hundred gallons of water into the family minivan.  “I’ll come back for you and the kids later, honey!” Dad’s anxiety announces as he finishes loading the precious cargo into each and every passenger seat before slowly puttering out of the parking lot in the severely overweighed suburban transport.

By now it should be pretty obvious what you need to do, though – just find out where these people live and move next door to them! If you hurry, Dad should be pretty easy to tail by the sparks emitting from his back bumper scraping the ground, and sure, they might be a little obnoxious the rest of the year, but hey, hurricane season is technically six months long, so in my book not having to be on watch half the year is well worth the random lawn care critiques and awkward dinner parties.  And no need to worry about mooching – trust me, at this point with that many kids, your taking a few cases of water off his hands in your time of need is the least of his worries, so no need to feel guilty about it!

Besides, it’s either my plan or you actually have to get up from the couch and go buy all of that crap yourself in this heat!  You do realize that a single gallon of water weighs eight pounds, right?

Yeah, that’s what I thought…