My family didn't exactly run screaming from Hurricane Charley. We sort of sauntered away from it, taunting the thing to hunt us down.
Which it did.
It wasn't until the storm was less than 24 hours from landfall that we began discussing evacuation, and my husband, Gary, and I did not agree. He felt we'd be perfectly safe in our 2nd-floor apartment in Clearwater, Fla.; I thought he was insane.
By Thursday afternoon, I called him from work and asked him to pack up what he could. I made a reservation at a hotel in Orlando that was across the street from one of the many entrances to Disney. I thought I was so smart.
I left work and spent the hour-long trip home trying to call my husband, my stepmother, my boss, anyone, on my cell phone, but could not get service out.
Around 6:30 p.m., we finally hit the road.
A little after 9 p.m., I sent my work colleagues this e-mail from Orlando: "We had almost no traffic and made it in 2 1/2 hours to our hotel near Downtown Disney. Stay safe :)"
How could Charley resist someone so smug? He couldn't.
Friday morning Gary, our 8-year-old son Colter and I went to see the movie "Thunderbirds" together. When that ended, we checked the weather: It was clear and serene outside. We decided to make it a double-feature. At 1:25 p.m., Gary and Colter went to see "Yu-Gi-Oh! The Movie."
A few minutes later, I popped into their theater (it was next to mine) to give them kisses before "Little Black Book" began.
About halfway through the film, the projectionist stopped it. I knew something had happened with the storm and when I checked e-mail on my phone, I discovered a notice that Charley had become a category 4 storm.
I immediately got Gary and Colter from their theatre. We looked outside and saw darkness, trees bending in the wind, driving rain. I imagined us stranded in the mall movie theater, crushed to death by glass because I had to tempt fate and see more than one movie. Charley was coming for me personally.
Gary handed us our raincoats and umbrella and calmly said, "It looks bad because we're scared." We held Colter's hand and headed for the car.
While stuck in traffic, I received an e-mail from a friend who evacuated to Lakeland; he said he was now in the path of the storm, which meant Orlando would be, too.
Moments later I received e-mail from another friend warning me about tornadoes near Disney. Then she sent one about inland damage. Another about a "buzz saw" going through Orlando.
By the time we arrived back at the hotel, I was a basket case. I took a bath to calm myself down. Soon, Gary brought in a piece of paper from the hotel.
"It's a 'Hurricane Death Notice,'" he said.
(Actually, he said "Hurricane Guest Notice," but that's not what I heard.)
It said we might be asked to evacuate to the nearest shelter. I got out of the bath and went into a full-fledged panic. By now, the rain was really coming down.
I started to think we should go back home to Clearwater immediately, since the storm wasn't headed there. I called the front desk and asked about the nearest shelter. The very patient woman who answered said there was a less than 2 percent chance we'd have to evacuate.
I remembered that most hurricane deaths happen to people in mobile homes and cars. I decided to stay put.
At 7:39 p.m., I wrote: "Feel as stupid now for evacuating to here as I had felt smart earlier for coming here. Responsible for all of us being physically vulnerable. Anxiety of not knowing. Anxiety of waiting. Anxiety of having no control, being helpless."
At 8:14 p.m., I wrote: "Colter says, 'The hurricane is following us.'"
I don't remember ever being that scared. And even though it didn't help at all, we felt compelled to keep looking out the window at the darkening darkness, wicked wind and railing rain.
The power flickered several times but never went out. We alternated between watching Cartoon Network and news/weathercasts. When we saw that the worst of the storm was imminent, we went into the bathroom, where Gary and Colter ate tuna sandwiches and I read a book.
By 9:30 p.m., the eye had passed.
Saturday morning, we saw the damage to the hotel: Roof shingles littered the ground, an awning was ripped off, chairs were thrown around the pool, crushing an iron gate, trees were split in two. We heard the waitress who served us breakfast tell one of her co-workers that she lost everything.
To redeem the trip, we went to the Lego store, avoiding millions of cars heading west on the interstate.
We shopped, ate lunch, went to see "Yu-Gi-Oh! The Movie" yet again (since it was interrupted the day before).
When we were ready to leave, we found a gas station that still had fuel to sell and as we started toward home, I remembered what I had told Colter earlier in the day, when he was marveling at the sunshine: The great thing about storms is that they always pass.
They always pass.
This LifeFiles column originally appeared on about 70 TV station websites managed by Internet Broadcasting Systems.
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