...I had just settled in for a minute to check out the TV when my phone lit up — it was Debbie.
“Hey there,” I said, “What’s going on?”
“You have to think about getting out of there. I was just talking to Linda in Charleston, and she says that they expect to get hit pretty hard.”
“I know, we are keeping an eye on things. Not supposed to come on shore until late Thursday.”
“Well, that may be, but you may be underestimating this storm. I know you told me that there was no return flight out of Myrtle Beach, but we can pay for you to get a flight out of the nearest open airport.”
“Damn,” I said, “I don’t even know what that would be — and how to get there, unless maybe a bunch of us rented a van or pooled our money for some type of hotel bus.”
“Listen,” she was pretty serious, “I don’t want you trapped down there in a hurricane. The nearest could be Wilmington, North Carolina.”
“Ok, all right, we are about to head out for dinner, so I will try to get a sense of what people are thinking.”
“Paul, you don’t have to be a daredevil or something — I’d rather have you home safe and sound.”
“I know, ok, we will talk in a while. Don’t worry too much now.”
