By David Simmons
NORCROSS, Ga. | With Hurricane Ian bearing down on Florida, it made me recall my one and only hurricane experience in Texas….was enough.
It was August 18, 1983. My business partner (and best friend) David and I WENT TO Hurricane Alicia. We traded places with two lady friends we knew that wanted to get off of Galveston Island, Tex. We drove there and had them take both their and our cars back to the Woodbine Inn, our historic hotel in Madisonville, Texas, halfway between Houston and Dallas.
Before the ladies left and as the hurricane approached, in the early evening we went skinny dipping in the gulf. We were the only ones out there. The waves were pounding in on the beach harder and harder as the evening went on. It was memorable!
Then, later, as the hurricane approached, David and I prepared for the onslaught, consuming beer, watching the news coverage on television until the power went out, then stayed under a mattress on the floor at about 1 am as all hell broke loose. It was 45 minutes of terror, then an eerie calm, as the eye of the hurricane passed over us.
Fifteen minutes later the wind came blasting back from the opposite direction. We were in a house up on telephone pole stilts on the second floor, waving back and forth about 18 inches in each direction. At the worst of it, it was almost like a carnival ride. I’m just glad those poles held up.
By 7 a.m., there was an absolutely gorgeous, beautiful, clear blue sky. In the street, water was up to our waist. A mom and pop grocery across the street had a broken front window. It looked like an ant colony, as a continuous stream of bodies went through the window, arms laden with all they could carry.
As the water slowly subsided, we walked six blocks, then along Seawall Boulevard. The front wall was all left of a bowling alley. The rest? Gone! Nothing but rubble.
We walked around all day, looking at the carnage. The power was out for three days and luckily the first day we were able to buy a couple bags of ice at an inflated price until the Galveston Causeway was reopened and the girls were able to come back with our car.
Still, it was extremely hot. Two bags of ice, although a god send, wasn’t much to last for three days in 90 degree heat. The girls thanked us for providing them shelter from the storm, and we thanked them for giving us the opportunity of a lifetime.
The hurricane went straight through Galveston and up Interstate 45 and pounded Houston, knocking windows out of the high rise buildings. As we escaped up I-45, we got almost all the way to Houston before any of the businesses along the highway had power.
When we finally got back to the Woodbine Inn in Madisonville, it turned out that Dave’s brother Rick, who we had left to run the business while we had our adventure, had added substantially to our coffers. Wisely, he had temporarily hired our two lady friends to help out, doubled the daily rental rate and sold out the hotel for the duration. The only television in the building was in the bar, and everyone wanted to see what Alicia was doing so the bar stayed full for the entire time, revenue pouring in.
All in all, it was a fairy tale hurricane story for us.
- Have a comment? Send to: elliott@brack.net
Follow Us