I thought growing up in West Texas, I knew what windy was. Houstonians gripe about 15 miles per hour being windy. Sean and I have played golf in 45 mile per hour winds from the north trying to finish 18 holes before the rain shows up. Wind does not bother me. I have been in the middle of dust storms that look like the scene from the Mummy where the plane gets knocked out of the sky. I have seen sand turn 3pm into midnight. I thought I knew windy. Brother, let me tell you something. Geraldo Riveria standing out in a storm reporting makes it look easy. Hurricanes blow, literally. The eye of Ike was about 60 miles across at landfall, but it diminished somewhat, but 75 miles inland, we had lower level hurricane winds, (75+ miles per hour) for a couple of hours, and then high level tropical storm winds for several hours more. All in all we had high winds for about 9 to 10 hours. The worst of the storm blew over by noon on the 13th, but heavy rain and wind was still flowing out of the system. Once the data was out, Ike’s eye passed about 20 miles to the east of our area. I saw stuff flying around the neighborhood, that I had no idea was aerodynamically sound. I even saw the Wicked Witch of the East on her broom, whom Sean has met. (more…)
Author: PrinceofHouston
-
Guest Post : “Meet Ike. He Was A Sorry SOB.”
First off, understand, Houston is not New Orleans. We are not a city built in a bowl, 30 feet below sea level. We are a whopping 43 feet above sea level. Houston sits 45 miles from the coast, but has a huge ship channel cut to reach Galveston Bay. I live 30 miles further north of Houston in a heavily wooded area known as “The Woodlands.” Texans are not much for over dramatic names. We are pretty simple. If there were mountains around here and we built a community there, it would be named “The Rocks” or “The Summits.” There is a golf course in San Antonio built in an old rock quarry. Guess what it is named. I digress.