I’m thirty-hmm-hmm years old, and I have a curfew.  Yes, you heard me right.  A curfew.  Of midnight. 

Did I lose my job?  Am I living with my parents again?  Did I get caught sneaking out to meet up with the cute senior at that abandoned cul-de-sac in Colony Creek?  Nope. None of the above, folks.  This city-enforced torture is another result of our lingering friend, Hurricane Ike.

Ike has caused countless problems…those around the country, and possibly the world, have no doubt seen the devastation on Galveston Island - specifically the east end and Bolivar Island areas.  Where countless beach homes stood tall, only barren land and piles of debris now exist.  Inland, as far as Huntsville, TX (a good 100 miles north of Galveston) strong winds and torrential rains wiped out power, slammed trees on homes, ripped off shingles, tore down fences, etc…causing billions - if not more - in damage.  The day after his wrath, Ike had wiped out power to 99 percent of Houston and its surrounding area residents and businesses. 99 percent!!  As of the writing of this blog - two weeks after landfall - a good 30 percent are still without.  That’s somewhere around 700,000 customers!  Thank beJesus I am no longer one of them.  But my parents are…and many other friends.  I, personally, was without power for a week…and as the temperatures rose…as every last bit of food was tossed from my refrigerator…as the mosquitos hatched and attached to every patch of exposed skin…violent thoughts did occasionally enter my brain.  Ok, they were there 24/7.  If I had been subjected to another week without?  Well, let’s just say it wouldn’t have been pretty.  So, kudos to those still hangin’ on.  Humidity has increased.  Temps have risen.  And still you wait - sometimes even patiently - for that elusive Centerpoint truck to putter down your street and return you to civilized living.

It is strange to think that a Category 2 (almost Cat. 3) hurricane could cause such widespread damage, and I think in “normal” circumstances (if there is such a thing when it comes to Mother Nature), the consequences would have been less dire.  The difference?  This thing was a monster.  Huge.  It took up most of the Gulf as it barrelled toward the Texas coast.  That created an unexpectedly forceful and early  storm surge.  The water had nowhere to go but straight ahead…shoved along by the enormity of this beast, and strong winds reached far north - even before landfall when weakening usually occurs.  It was a strange phenomenon, caused by a tireless bastard who had already ripped his way through the still-recovering Cuba and Carribean islands.  If my power was still out, I’d probably track the remnants of this bully down and show him what a Texas whoopin’ feels like. I’m just sayin’…

So, okay…back to the curfew.  I do understand the reasoning behind it.  Many are still without power.  Looters do exist and law enforcement needs a legitimate reason to get them off the streets…before they wreak havoc.  But if you can, just for a moment, imagine being cooped up in your home…for days on end, even weeks.  No one is working.  For many, power is still out.  The term “stir crazy” doesn’t even begin to describe one’s state of mind.  Social interaction is necessary, and so we gather at our favorite restaurant or watering hole (preferably one with air conditioning).  We rehash recent events, offer comforts to those still without, and just as relaxation begins to creep into our bones…”LAST CALL, FOLKS! CURFEW STRICTLY ENFORCED! TIME TO GO HOME!”

What? But, I’ve just…I can’t go home.  But you have no choice.  A horrible memory from high school returns. You’re at that great party…the really hot guy’s house…the one with the long hair and guitar (or the letterman jacket…pick your poison). You’re playing quarters…he keeps glancing your way…and then your Mom walks in and drags you out.  And you’re humiliated to the point of death.  It was midnight.  And today, almost 20 years later, it’s also midnight.  And the city is ripping you away from your friends…and the drummer, or the basketball player (again, pick your poison)…and you wonder, does anything ever really change?

I’m going to see one of my favorite musicians on Friday night…and he’s scheduled to go on about 11:00 or 11:30.  I need this outing now more than ever…an escape from the constant reminders of Ike, the constant press conferences, the constant pictures and video and now rushed work deadlines. I need this.  But the curfew has still not been lifted, and I worry that the show will be cancelled, or that I’ll only get a precious 30 minutes to listen to the sweet music.  Maybe Daddy (Mayor) White will come through…maybe he’ll see that we’ve been responsible children and tack on an hour or two.  Or maybe Centerpoint will get a fire under their butts and save the remaining 30 percent from darkness.  If not, I may return to my teenage persona and risk punishment.  The adrenaline’s already pumping…

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