If you're looking for a post outlining how to survive a natural disaster with dignity and any level of coolness, this is not that post.
Back in September 2009 Chris and I went to Cabo San Lucas for the first time. It was beautiful and wonderful and sexy and also hurricane season. We didn't know about that last part though. I remember getting out of the car at the hotel and overhearing someone talking about how it hadn't rained in some ridiculous amount of time and something about a storm coming in and...hey!! a pool with a bar!
We had a great time for a couple of days and then came into our room to find a little unsuspecting note on our bed but I was all hey! dos por uno drinks at the beach!
We finally read the note and it was outlining our schedule for the next 24 hours which didn't include fun stuff but rather a survival plan for the category 5 hurricane that was making its way directly to Cabo. We would need to go to a meeting with the rest of the resort and they would show us the bunker. Don't miss it! :)
Nothing jump starts my underlying anxiety like a surprise category 5 hurricane.
My phone started blowing up. My family had been watching the news and were freaking the F out. My brother who is a military man called me to give me a rundown. He'd worked some missions during Hurricane Katrina and assured me that I was about to experience the worst hell I couldn't even imagine. "No seriously, Lyn. A fucking nightmare." I needed to be prepared and he listed off 2936492357 things to do in order to survive this. He gave me a plan B, C, and D. He wasn't playing. To say that I was freaking out would be a slight understatement.
I pictured myself tied to a floating Mexican door for days - grasping onto Chris who was bloodied and bruised hanging onto the door with the last bit of life he had left in him. The Mexican version of Titanic.
Chris was calm. Not even a hurricane could shake his nerves of steel. His calmness made me maniacal. I wanted to punch him in the face. We were about to die and he was so damn nonchalant about it. His calming words enraged me and made me question if he understood what a hurricane was or if maybe he was a complete moron.
We went to the meeting and blah blah blah. I didn't need their ideas. I'd already talked to my brother and I had a plan. Bring it Hurricane Jimina, you whore! We got to the bunker area which wasn't a bunker at all. It was the lobby with a hurricane curtain up.
Here's where things get a little, ahem, embarrassing. Everyone there looked like they were still on vacation. They were in flip flops, lounging around laughing and drinking from the bottles of liquor they had snuck in.
Not me. I looked like I was ready for battle. I had on running shoes, shorts with belt loops because I needed somewhere to put my carabiner and was hauling approximately 5 gallon jugs of water. Yep. Chris had his own gallons of water because it was easier for him to give into my crazy than to fight it. There we were. Sitting. Waiting. With all of our water and my carabiner. It was actually a good thing that I had all the water because my nervous diarrhea was out.of.control.
People noticed. I saw the way they looked at me....with judgement and embarrassment FOR me. I should be used to those looks by this point in my life but they're still uncomfortable.
We were there for 12 hours. They put up a huge screen and started playing a movie - High School Musical...the Musical - on repeat - for hours. Never before had I wished so hard for a hurricane to come and end it all. Go figure the hurricane was losing strength just as I needed it to take us all out. We were there for hours sitting like a couple of assholes with running shoes watching High School Musical...the Musical envying the liquor that the sane people had brought. I slipped my carabiner off. We were going to survive.
We were released from High School Hell, the clouds parted, the sun was out and the pool bar was open. Normalcy was restored and the good news was that after 12 hours of nervous diarrhea I was ready to rock my bikini.