1. Drive to New Jersey via Staten Island.
2. Listen to the radio as they announce your town as having to evacuate.
3. Call your landlord parents and instruct them to pack their stuff for the next day.
4. Find a parking spot on the grass.
5. Carry your plastic bag of ponchos and a towel a mile up and down hills.
6. Buy a soft pretzel, a burger, fries, and a Coke for $19.
7. Trek up and down grass until you find the midpoint.
8. Stand and watch Gavin DeGraw, Maroon 5, and Train.
Maroon 5's newer stuff is better than their older stuff even though every song sounds the same. Fun fact: Friday Night Whites is their outfit of choice for concerts on Fridays.
No one really knows who Gavin DeGraw is though some people now refer to him as That Guy Who Got Beat Up And Then Hit By A Taxi.
The security at PNC Bank Arts Center are sticklers for the no standing on the concrete rule. Your heal hits the pavement, and you're under scrutiny. They are also supporters of the praying mantis cause. They found two of them and scooped them off into the brush for safety.
Ponchos are fun.
Train knows how to entertain a crowd. Not only did they play our song (how could they not when it's the most popular Train song every), but they played every song I love.
9. Go home in panic mode about the impending hurricane.
10. Convince your landlord parents to leave for higher ground because "mandatory" means you have to leave.
11. Stay behind to watch the house in case hurricane looters come around. (I'm not kidding--my mother AND my husband were both convinced that people were going to rob us). Also, my mom felt better about leaving knowing that we'd be in the house. Thanks, Mom, for feeling better about us staying in the flood zone.
By the way, three different maps show three different ideas about where exactly our house is in relation to the flood zone. Two of these maps are from the county, even though they conflict.
12. Watch two Netflix and an HBO movie into the wee hours of the morning while trying not to shit yourself every time a strong wind comes swooping in, causing the lights to flicker.
12.a. Talk out loud to the hurricane: Please don't kill the power before the end of the movie.
12.b. Realize how ridiculous you sound talking out loud to a hurricane.
12.c. Realize how ridiculous you are to be worrying about the end of the movie rather than about windows smashing, trees falling, and the house floating away.
12.d Realize that drinking screwdrivers, however weak they are, was probably a bad idea seeing that their proposed effect of taking the edge off was not happening, and instead, the effect of crazily talking to the wind and getting more and more paraniod was taking over.
13. Go to bed.
14. Hope for the best.