The Day Freddy...

The Day Freddy Came to Town

Personal experience with a hurricane that changed the Alabama coast

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I recall that it took me over an hour and a half to drive from north of Gulf Shores back to Spanish Fort, a trip that under normal conditions would have taken me about 35 or 40 minutes. And there was virtually no other traffic on the road, but the winds were so fierce that it seemed to be a contest of two steps forward, one step back.

Once I finally arrived at my little rented wooden house on Highway 31 in the Spanish Fort community, I dragged myself and my gear inside. I had been salty rain soaked for hours by that point and my handgun and all my leather gear were wet and had to be tended to. Once those chores were finished, I threw my uniform (khaki pants and long sleeve Dickie’s work clothes with a couple of department patches on the sleeves) into the washing machine and myself into a hot shower.

By now it was around 8:00 PM and the howling winds and heavy rain were the predominant sounds. Once I and all my gear were squared away, I drug a mattress into the small central hallway of the little house. My (former) wife asked me what I was doing. I told her that I was going to sleep, because I had no more gas in my tank. And that’s exactly what I did.

I slept through the entire night. I never even heard the first transformer blow or any of the trees breaking up and falling. Instead, I woke up to a bright, shiny morning that looked like it was illuminating a battlefield.

After ascertaining that the house and both of our cars had survived without major damage, I left and returned to the Foley substation for post hurricane duty.

Everyone else has their cool stories of how they passed through a night of terror, fear and worry and all I can say is that I missed it, because I slept through it.

By Earby Markham

From: United States