Our Experience with 2005's Hurricane Wilma in Boca Raton, Florida

My boyfriend and I live in Boca Raton, Florida. In 2005, six hurricanes hit within a 100 mile radius of our area, and one came directly through our area of Florida. We went away for the weekend to Nashville during Hurricane Wilma, the one hurricane that decided this exact spot where we live was a perfect target. We enjoyed our trip but worried the whole time. Are the cats okay? Is our stuff still there? Is anything broken? Is anything on fire? Are our friends making it through?

That Monday, after a very long 20-hour drive back to Florida, we returned to a pitch-black city. It was 1130pm, curfew was at 11pm, and we were worried that we may get pulled over or put in jail for being out, but we had to get home. Our neighbor, who told us she would only call if it got bad enough to warrant calling, had called us earlier in the day to tell us we had a broken window and the complex was a mess. We drove carefully down the road about 3 miles from our apartment in the pitch black, only our tiny headlights illuminating the way. We got to our street safely but came across a few downed power lines which we had to drive around. It was so eerie, so dark. In the darkness, one could only see shadows of mangled trees, destroyed by powerful winds that showed no mercy. It was a very powerful, memorable moment in my life.

We finally made it to our apartment after a 30 minute drive that should have taken 10 minutes. Entering our apartment was dangerous in and of itself because we did not know where glass was, if the cats were okay, nothing. We found the cats who were okay and tremendously happy to see us, then assessed the damage the best we could without much light (only one broken window out of 6 thanks to a 20x10 inch shingle that flew through so fast that it actually busted out the metal bar in the middle of the window).

In the morning, we woke up to find that our apartment had the one broken window along with a large pile of debris scattered across our living room (shingles, glass, dirt, branches.) Ironically, on a plastic table directly in front of the window remained standing a Guinness bottle, unaffected by the winds or debris. (We kept that bottle as a memento.) The 100-unit apartment complex lost 90% of its shingles, which were actually the cause of the majority of the damage. (Interestingly, just a few months before, the complex had hired contractors to reroof the place, but the deal went sour so they never did it.) We cleaned our apartment the best we could, covered up the window set with a huge tarp which we'd purchased in Tifton, Georgia at a Wal-Mart on the way back from Nashville (along with a propane stove, propane, and necessities such as a flashlight, duct tape, etc.). We also were very lucky to find an army surplus store in Tifton's shady neck-of-the-woods to get two boxes of MREs (Meals Ready to Eat). Good old army rations. YUM!

We spent the next 5 days off work and working just the same. 5 days of cleaning, bonding with our neighbors, doing something to help, doing our best not to feel helpless. A group of about 15 of us spent our days picking up shingles, trees, branches, anything we could. We easily filled our apartment complex dumpsters about 12 times that week. Breakfast one day for us was propane stove cooked-in-a-skillet steak and sausage. The evenings and nights were spent playing poker, listening to music, dancing, drinking, grilling out all the food we could to salvage what was left. Kurt kept the neighbors in good meats, my boyfriend and I had a converter which we hooked up in the car so we could help keep the neighbors in charged cell phones (one does not realize just how vital a resource that can be in an emergency such as this) so those of us who could get calls to go out could let family, friends, and the media know we're okay.

Just when emotions started to run high (after 5 fun-filled days), power returned, hot showers came back, microwaves resumed functioning, televisions could once again serve as a distraction. 15 stinky people, 5 days and nights of bonding with our neighbors, lifelong memories, and despite everything that happened because of it, I don't know that I'd trade the experience for the world.

And next time, we're taking the cats with us.