I don't know that I've watched as much Weather Channel in one sitting as I did Saturday morning. Thankfully it wasn't for fourteen hours like this person. Nevertheless, there I was, up at 6am with coffee in one hand and TV remote in the other. I watched because, as a lifelong North Carolinian, I have come to know and love many of the places the reports had been saying were lying right in the path of Irene's fury. Somehow, rising at this early hour to watch it happen live seemed strangely comforting.
And I must say, looking back on that experience and the 96 hours that was our nation's obsession with all things Hurricane Irene, I am inspired. Inspired by the brave men and women who once again rose to the occasion and demonstrated that heavy rain and gale-force winds will never keep America's finest down.
Yes, on-site hurricane reporters, I'm talking about you.
You ever wonder what kind of person it takes to be an on-site hurricane reporter? What their Myers-Briggs type is? What kind of vetting process the networks must go through to siphon out the cream of the crop? Surely there must be some rigorous training they go through to achieve such lofty status. Whatever the case, you can count on their presence as much as you can count on the arrival of the storms themselves - standing (or trying to) on a beach or pier, decked out in the station's GoreTex finest, sometimes wearing goggles, precariously holding on to a pole with one hand and a microphone with another, speaking into said mic which winds up picking up more of this than their voice.
All of which creates a pretty sensational television experience for us couch potatoes. I appreciate the blunt honesty of NPR's Linda Holmes when she says that we watch these hurricane reporters for the same reason we secretly watch figure skating or car racing - to see a wipeout. Admit it, she's right. If you really wanted just a tracking update, you'd open your web browser.
For those looking for notable heroic meterologist moments from this latest round, Irene didn't disappoint. There was TWC's Mike Seidel, the only man on the face of the earth who could go totally incognito simply by removing his hat (seriously, would you recognize him??) stuck in the thick of Irene and getting tossed around Nags Head like a rag doll. More than any meterologist, I get the sense he absolutely loves this. He probably doesn't let them start filming until the moment the really big winds come.
There was Eric Fisher in Virginia Beach, wearing goggles (that by itself would be worthy enough of recognition) and talking at length about how conditions were pretty bad and no one should be out in them, yada yada. This, as countless cars ride by and people run behind and in front of him, mockingly so. Oh, and a streaker too (which I probably should've mentioned sooner if you've already clicked on the link above. Sorry).
There was NBC's Al Roker (and did anyone besides me notice that he showed up on NBC and The Weather Channel? What a two-timer) precariously positioning himself in the heart of Long Island, NY......two full days before Irene even got there. I like Al, but if you turned down the sound and didn't know any better, you'd think he was enjoying a leisurely evening stroll on the beach. On the west coast.
The hands-down winner, though, has to go to this poor fella:
Meet FOX's Tucker Barnes, surrounded by and absolutely covered in what he thinks is some sea foam stirred up by the raging sea behind him. Problem is, it isn't sea foam. That "weird stuff" that's "probably organic matter" with a "sandy consistency" that "doesn't taste great" and looks like "something off a Nickelodeon show" is, he and his studio colleagues would later learn, raw sewage. Someone get that man a bottle of Purell (seriously, for the interplay between him and the folks back at the studio alone, this could be the best 4:27 of video you'll see all week).
I have a friend who's a roving news reporter for a local TV station. He used to work with an affiliate on the coast and covered a few hurricanes in his time. Now he's the guy they send out during our North Carolina "blizzards" (what Northerns call "a dusting"). You'll see him standing on some highway overpass, kicking his foot through the snow and ice, repeating the standard mantra: it's pretty slick out here, it's not great to drive on, so the best advice is to stay inside and only go out if you absolutely have to (this as car after car drives by on the road beneath him). I give him a hard time every time he does this because he's my friend and I can (kind of the same way he can give me a hard time about televangelists).
But hey, it's a living. And, in our 24-7 news-saturated culture, entertainment. So here's to the brave women and men who put their lives on the line and stand where no sane person would - until they're blow off their feet or covered in raw sewage. Our hurricane experience wouldn't be the same without you.
(A quick note: Just in case you didn't pick up on it, and to avoid any misunderstanding, this post is quite tongue-in-cheek. Prayers for those who truly have suffered from Irene, as well as the families of those who lost their lives. And thanks to all the first responders whose efforts kept the aftermath of the hurricane from being any worse).






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