Sandy, The Unwelcome Visitor

It was late in the hurricane season on the east coast; the waters were already beginning to cool off from their summer high temperatures. Normally storms that occur at this time of year dissipate before they ever reach New Jersey. I wasn't very worried and didn't pay much attention to the long-range forecast. On the Friday before the storm hit, I was at work talking with one of my coworkers.

I asked, "You have any plans for the weekend?"

"You've got to be kidding right; don't you know we're going to get hit with a hurricane by Monday?"

That got my attention. When I got home that night I turned on the Weather Channel and discovered, much to my dismay, that they were indeed predicting New Jersey was going to be getting a direct hit from the Hurricane named Sandy. We spent much of the day on Saturday, bringing in the Halloween decorations and clearing off the furniture from the front porch and the back patio.

"I've got to get down to the beach and storm proof the back yard as best I can."

"OK," she said, "but you are planning on coming home again, aren't you?"

Here's where the macho side of my brain took over. "No, I think I'll ride this one out down there.

"Hon, you can't, it won't be safe."

"It won't be a problem. We've never had any wind damage before because of the way all the houses line up and we've never had any flood damage before. I just want to be there in case something happens. Besides, Sandy will most likely go out to sea like all the others. I want you to stay with your parents; they may need you. I'll have my cell and will call you to let you know what's happening."

With a hug and a kiss goodbye, I headed out the door. The sky was already full of clouds and the wind was noticeably stronger than normal as I got in my SUV and began my drive down to the shore. The traffic was light and I made good time. I pulled into the driveway about 7 PM. As I walked across the driveway and approached the door I noted two things, one, the wind was a lot stronger here, and two, it was really quiet, no one appeared to be around.

Going into the house, I went through my normal quick inspection of all the rooms. Nothing appeared to be out of order. I grabbed the remote and turned on the TV. I switched to the Weather Channel, walked to the refrigerator, grabbed a beer, took a couple of slices of pizza out of the freezer, and settled in for the night. The news report was not good. Although the storm was still well to the east and south of us, all the computer models were still predicting that Sandy was still going to hook back to the west and make landfall somewhere between Cape May and Long Island. Worst of all, because of the size of the storm and the time it was expected to hit us, the storm surge was expected to be ten to fifteen feet. I sat at the kitchen counter doing the math in my head. If most of the island is between six and ten feet above sea level, and the sand dunes that protected the beach front homes were only three or four feet, then most likely the ocean and the bay were going to meet in some places, if not on the entire island.

I remembered that during the last major nor'easter back in the eighties, the bay came up to within three houses from us. It was scary, standing there in the street watching the edge of the water slowly make its way up the street. We were lucky; our house was almost dead center on the island; between the 35's as they say. That storm was not as strong as this storm, but it had stalled just off the coast and, for three days had pushed more and more water into the bay, with its steady winds not letting the water recede.

All the houses in our area were built directly onto a concrete slab; therefore the floor of the house was no higher than eight inches above the road. If the water level rose above that, there was no way for me to keep it out of the house. I shut the TV and the lights, grabbed a pillow and slept on the couch.

Tomorrow was going to be a very busy day.

I woke up early Sunday morning. It was still dark outside. I started walking from room to room, taking anything that was sitting on the floor and moving it to higher ground. Out in the porch, I placed the floor lamp and the small wicker table on the couch. In the living room, I moved another lamp and the end table it sat on to the couch in that room. The TV and the low stand that it sat on I left for now, they would be the last items to be moved. In the bedrooms, I removed the lower two drawers of each of the dressers and stacked them on top of the dressers. In my daughter's room I pulled out the rollaway bed that fit under her twin bed that sat against the wall, removed the mattress and stacked it on top of her bed, then placed the frame on top of that. I removed anything that was on the floors in the closets and stacked it as best I could anywhere I could. In the kitchen, from under the sink, I took all the cleaning products and the pots and pans, placing them on the stove and in the sink. The bathroom was the easiest room to do; only a waste basket sat on the floor and that was moved to the top of the toilet. I made one more inspection of the house. In our bedroom, I had to fold up the bedspread onto the mattress and move the storage bin from under the bed to the top of the bed. After one final look around, I was satisfied that I had done everything I could inside to protect what I could, I went out to the car and headed to the Bay Side Café for breakfast.

When I got there, several employees were outside tying down the patio furniture that was normally used during the summer.

"I'm sorry, we're closed. Didn't you hear about the mandatory evacuation warning by the Governor?"

I got back into my vehicle and headed back to the house. As I was driving back, I saw that the lights were still on at the Dunkin Donuts, so I stopped and got myself a breakfast sandwich and a container of coffee. I was getting ready to drive off when I saw one of the employees locking the doors. It seemed everyone was abandoning the ship. Everyone, that is, except me.

As I passed Ocean Beach Shores, I noticed a guy climbing out of his car in the club's parking lot. I watched in my rear view mirror as he crossed the street and headed down the block towards the bay.

'That's a good idea,' I thought to myself, 'he probably lives close to the bay and is putting his car in what he feels is the safest place he can.'

I drove home, sat at the counter and watched as they replayed the Governor's press conference, urging people to get off the island, while I ate my breakfast. Just then my phone rang. It was my wife.

"Hello, babe. Yes, I heard about the evacuation. No I'm going to stay here. I still have more work to do outside. Everything OK at your end? Are you at your parents' house? Good, stay there, I'll call you there tonight. Love you."

I hung up the phone before she could try to talk me out of staying.

After finishing my coffee I went out to the back yard and determined the best way to protect our stuff and the houses around us was to tie everything to our wooden storage box. I removed the umbrella from its stand and placed it in the box and lifted the table off the umbrella base and rolled the table over to the box. I retrieved a rope from the back of the car and tied the table sideways to the front of the box. The gas grill was next; that went next to the table and was secured to the box with two more loops of rope. The four chairs were stacked and carried into house. They joined the two old PeeWee Herman bikes that we used for our rides around the island.

That was it. There was nothing left outside that wasn't already secured to our fence, including our deck.

It was an eerie walk up to the beach. By this time late Sunday afternoon, the wind was coming in gusts of about 40 MPH and there was an occasional light rain beginning to fall. I saw no one until I got to the top of the beach. A couple was doing the same thing I was doing about one hundred yards north of me. The ocean looked angry. Waves were breaking continuously, at different angles, not the usual one long line of a breaker then a short period of calm. 'Was the water already higher than normal?' I wasn't sure, maybe. I turned back to the north again, but the couple was already gone. I retreated from the beach and headed back towards the house. As I crossed 35 North, only a couple of cars were in sight in either direction. I decided I'd better check out the bay so I continued past the house, crossed 35 South, and walked down to the end of the block that juts out into the bay.

The water was almost to the top of the bulkhead. Not good. It was still about 24 to 30 hours from the predicted landfall, and if the water continued to rise, these houses for sure would be flooded.

By the time I returned to the house it was already getting dark. As I passed my SUV I remembered about the parking lot on 35 North in Ocean Beach Shores.

'Am I staying or leaving?' That was the question. After several minutes of contemplation, I got in, started the engine and headed south to the parking lot. When I got to the parking lot there were 2 other cars in the lot. I parked, locked it, and began my half mile walk back to the house. 'I'm staying.'

When I got back to the house it was dark. I turned on the kitchen light and the TV and got a quick update on the weather; no changes. The late afternoon game was still on. I grabbed a beer and sat at the counter. Realizing that I was really hungry, I checked out the freezer. This being the end of the season, there wasn't much left. I took out the last two slices of leftover pizza and put them in the microwave. I checked out the cabinet above the refrigerator; there was a half empty box of cereal, a couple of cans of soup, and a can of pork and beans.

After eating and after the end of the game I called my wife. I told her everything that I had done inside and out.

"Do you really think we're going to get water?"

"Yes, I think so."

"Shouldn't you get out of there?"

"No, if I'm here I might be able to do something to prevent any real damage. If I'm home, I won't be able to do anything. Besides, hopefully, this is a once in a lifetime chance to experience a storm like this. I don't want to miss it."

"I think you're being foolish, but I can see that your mind is made up. Please be safe, no heroics. I love you."

"I love you, too. I'll call you tomorrow, if I can. Don't worry, it may get uncomfortable here, but I'll be safe."

'Now, I thought looking around at all furniture, where am I going to sleep?'

I removed the table and lamp from the couch in the living room, changed the channel to the last game of the evening, shut the kitchen light, set the timer, and laid down to watch the game.

Before I knew it, it was Monday morning. Outside the wind was rising and the rain was becoming steadier. I made myself a cup of instant coffee and poured myself a bowl of cereal. I'd have to eat it dry because there was no milk in the fridge, and I was certain that none of the stores in the area were going to open. I thought back on the times that we had summer thunderstorms while we were here. They can be pretty unnerving, particularly at night. The flashes of lightning and the crack of thunder seem amplified in the smallness of the house, especially when you know that all you have between you and the sky above are the shingles of the roof, one-by-six planking, and about an inch of material similar to office ceiling tiles wedged between the rafters. 'What would a hurricane sound like?'

I turned on the New Jersey Channel just in time to hear our Governor call me stupid. He also informed me that no first responders would be sent out on the island to rescue me. I was on my own until at least Tuesday night when the worst of Sandy was predicted to be out of the area. There was more bad news. Sandy, as expected, had made its sharp left turn and was now on a path northwest directly towards the coast of New Jersey. The storm was about 300 miles to the southeast and would, with the help of the high tide and the full moon, push ahead of it a storm surge expected to be eleven to twelve feet above normal. Worst still, because the storm was over one thousand miles wide, there would be two periods of high tide before it passed.

At about 2:00 in the afternoon the cable TV went out. Outside we were now experiencing steady gale force winds and a heavy rain. Gusts of wind were blowing the rain sideways against the windows. Occasionally, I would walk to the side window that gave me the best view down the street; so far there was no sign of the bay advancing up the street. It was still five hours before the first high tide. Since the TV was of no use to me now, I disconnected it from the cable, unplugged the power and placed it and its stand on our bed. Without the TV, time seemed to drag. That's when I remembered my daughter's beach radio. It was still where she stored it, on the shelf in her closet. I turned it on; nothing. I checked for batteries, the compartment was empty. I checked the freezer, good girl; there on the door in a plastic bag were six 'C' batteries. I used to tell her to always take out the batteries after the season to prevent damage to the radio from corroded batteries. I installed the batteries and holding my breath turned it on. It worked. Great, now I had a link to the outside world. But for how long? How old were these batteries? The radio also had a power cord with could be stored away when not in use. Quickly I turned it off, hooked up the power cord and plugged it in and switched to A/C. I turned on an all talk station out of New York City. It provided some comfort.

Around 4:00 in the afternoon, the kitchen light flickered on and off a few times. I was afraid of that. I ran to the refrigerator, pulled out the big candle that we keep in there in case the power goes out. On the door, there was also a glass jar filled with matchbooks. When you have a house at the beach, you tend to use the refrigerator for storing things that don't do well in excessive heat or high humidity. I put the candle on the kitchen counter and lit it. After I was sure that it was burning steadily, I went back to the window and checked for flooding. It was already getting dark, and with all the rain the visibility was poor, but I was sure I could see the edge of the water about six houses down. I began to panic; maybe I should put towels down by the doors.

'Don't be silly, all that would accomplish is getting a couple of towels all wet and dirty.' I was sure that even if I had put sand bags in front of the door, the water would just seep in under the outside sheathing and into the house. These houses were far from water tight. I took one last look around, put the furniture I took off the couch last night back onto the couch and returned to my seat at the kitchen counter.

As I sat there, listening to the weather forecast and the rest of the news, I began to have second thoughts about my decision to stay. 'I hope it doesn't get much worse.' That's when the light went out. The radio was also quiet. I switched over to battery just to assure myself that someone was still out there. In order to conserve the batteries for as long as I possible I planned to only listen to the news for a couple of minutes at the top of each hour.

At 6:00 I turned on the radio for an update. The forecasters were predicting that the eye of the storm would make landfall in about 2 hours somewhere around Atlantic City. That was the worst news I could hope for, that meant that the worst of the storm surge and the strongest winds would be to the north of the eye, from Long Beach Island to the New York City and southern Long Island.

I grabbed the flashlight that had been under the sink and walked to the front window. I could see that the street had a couple of inches of water. I still had a safety zone of about seven inches before the water reached the front door, but that was wishful thinking.

I went into our bedroom, grabbed my yellow vinyl rain jacket out of the closet. We had bought these about five years ago, just in case we wanted to take a walk in the rain. Now I was glad we did. I threw it over the stuff by the sink and sat at the counter listening to the rain pound away on the roof, and the howling wind cause the house to creak and the windows to rattle.

Around eight o'clock that evening, I heard a noise behind me in the bathroom. I shined my flashlight at the back door; there at the base, water began bubbling up from under the screen door. I checked the front door. Because it was a solid core, aluminum covered door it had a better seal. But soon, the water began to seep in from the corners. Slowly, but surely, the water filled the floor of the porch which was about an inch and a half lower than the rest of the house. I could see wet spots in the carpet along the perimeter of the living room and the bedrooms. The flooding had begun.

I took off my boots, putting them in the sink and sat back down at the counter. Looking around, I planned my escape if necessary. I could sit on the counter, then stand, step over to the stove, open the doors to the storage area over the bathroom and climb in there if the water level continued to rise. I'd at least be dry until the level reached seven and a half feet. That is, as long as the house stayed in one piece.

For now, I sat helplessly watching the water slowly soak through the carpet. I turned on the radio. Sandy had made landfall with winds about eighty-five MPH, they were predicting an even higher surge than they had first thought, maybe 14 feet or more. They said the next eight to nine hours would be the worst. I shut the radio and watched the water rise. I couldn't be sure, but it looked to me that it was rising at about two inches per hour. For the next four hours I watched as the water continued to rise. At about one o'clock in the morning it seemed to stop rising. I looked over at the sofa. The water line had reached about half way up the front or about eight to ten inches. Satisfied that I was safe for the moment, I moved the candle closer to the sink and crawled up onto the counter, with my head near the cabinets and my feet dangling off the end. I fell into a fitful sleep.

At about 2:30 I woke up, turned on the flashlight and checked the water level. The water level was about the same but had wicked up through the fabric. I sat up; I had to answer a nature call. Figuring everything was already ruined, I took a piss right there. How much dirtier could the water get anyway?

Relieved, I lay back down and waited for the 3 AM news. What I heard shocked me. The subway and tunnels in lower Manhattan were flooded. Ground Zero had an estimated three hundred thousand gallons of water in it. Yet they were fearful that the New Jersey Shore and Staten Island may have been hit the hardest. I shut off the radio and lay there listening to wind. It sounded like it was slowing down a bit, or was I just getting used to the constant roar.

The next thing I knew it was morning. I checked the clock on the wall, it read nearly eight o'clock. I rolled onto my side and surveyed the damage. It seemed that the water level had risen again. It looked like there was about a foot of water in the living room based upon the electrical outlet on the wall which I knew was about eighteen inches off the floor. That was good, if this was the highest that the water rose, at least I could salvage the electrical system.

The weather outside appeared to be improving. The wind was still blowing, but now the gusts were coming less frequently. It also seemed to have changed direction. The gusts seemed to be coming from the south, no longer from the east. That meant that the storm was well inland and that the water in the bay would begin to retreat back into the ocean. It couldn't happen soon enough.