Why people choose to ride out hurricanes
BY LINDA SHRIEVES
The Orlando Sentinel
ORLANDO, Fla. - (KRT) - The mayor of New Orleans begged people to leave the city and ended with a plea: "God bless us."
In Mississippi, the governor warned residents that a 30-foot wall of water could come crashing toward them.
And yet, in the face of Hurricane Katrina, a Category 4 storm that may become one of the deadliest in U.S. history, some people ignored evacuation orders and stayed behind - only to find themselves stranded on roofs, begging for help, or hanging onto trees.
Certainly some did not have the means to leave. But why did those who had a choice stay? What compels people to ride out a storm?
It's a combination of factors, psychologists say. Some people are thrill-seekers. Others gamble that the hurricane will skirt past them. Many think they're tough enough to survive a hurricane. And some simply procrastinate until it's too late to get out.
Jorge Vazquez of Orlando, Fla., wanted a taste of adventure when he dared to stay and face Hurricane Andrew, which was barreling down on Miami in 1992.
Vazquez, then 25 and living in Coral Gables, Fla., never considered leaving. Instead, he thought about his Cuban-born parents and their experiences.
"It was my first hurricane," he says. "My parents had been through hurricanes and they'd survived. So I figured I could do it. Besides, I wanted to see what a hurricane really is about."
As the winds escalated, Vazquez got scared when he noticed water leaking through the roof. Nervously, he and his partner moved to a bathroom with no windows. They dragged a mattress into the bathroom - and as the storm peeled away sections of the roof, they sat in the tub, shielding themselves from debris with the mattress.
During hurricane season, Vazquez, 38, now keeps bottled water, canned food and batteries on hand - and a suitcase packed if he needs to evacuate.
But he loves adventure - and a hurricane, he says, "is like a roller coaster." So unless a storm is a Category 3 or higher, he won't leave home.
That's a common reaction in hurricane-prone areas.
"People become desensitized," says Charles Gibbs, a Miami psychologist who counseled survivors after Hurricane Andrew. "When Katrina came through here, the prevailing attitude was, `Hmph, it's a category one.' There wasn't that typical rush to Home Depot. There wasn't that typical hysteria."
And yet, even when "the big one" hits, some people simply won't leave home, despite having the money for a hotel room 100 miles away.
"There's always a certain percentage of the population that's going to be afraid and is going to run," says Los Angeles trauma psychologist Robert Butterworth. "There's another group that's waiting for the experts to tell them what to do. And there's always that third group that waits for hell or high water - which is a terrible expression, but in this case seems to be true."
One reason some people refuse to seek shelter, Butterworth says, is that they don't want to abide by someone else's rules. "You lose your freedom when you go to a large place like that," he says. "You're confined."
But one of the most common obstacles to fleeing is the attachment people feel to their homes.
Not only do people feel safe at home, but they also want to protect their property from looters.
"People say, `This is my home and I'm not leaving my home. I bought it, I put my time and hard work into it and I'm not leaving,'" Gibbs says. "It's almost like that old saying, `the captain going down with the ship.' They get that mentality."
It is, he says, a very American trait.
"We live in an individualistic society," he says. "We're raised to think we can do anything, if we put in enough time, effort and energy."
Ironically, New Orleans residents who stayed in their homes during Katrina are now being ordered to leave the city.
Last year, before Hurricane Charley, some deputies in Pinellas County, Fla., issued stark instructions to people who refused to evacuate: Use duct tape to stick your drivers license to your chest so we can identify your body.
In other coastal counties, deputies don't use that kind of scare tactic. "If they elect to stay," says Brevard County sheriff's spokesman Sgt. Andrew Walters, "we take down all their contact information," including next of kin.
No amount or type of persuasion has worked to pry James Allen, 79, from his Cedar Key, Fla., home. He says he has lost count of the number of hurricanes he has weathered. Despite living about a block away from the water, Allen has left his home only one time before a hurricane. That was in the 1960s, and he left with his elderly father.
"If I was scared I was going to drown, I would get up and leave," he says.
These days, Allen charts storms on his own and decides for himself whether a hurricane threat warrants evacuation.
"I'm nearly 80 years old, and I can do whatever I want to do," he says. Besides, Allen says, he believes in predestination.
"Maybe it's just me, but I figure it's God's work," Allen says. "What is to be will be."
In Mississippi, officials worried that evacuation-weary residents wouldn't listen to yet another evacuation order. Twice in the past year, Mississippians had been asked to leave - for hurricanes that eventually struck elsewhere.
Yet in New Orleans, another factor was at work. Residents there used to talk about the city being "charmed," having some special protection from hurricanes.
Many people who live in disaster-prone areas resort to denial, Butterworth says. It's a way of coping with the anxiety of potential earthquakes, tornadoes and hurricanes. They talk about the odds of a disaster hitting them, about how hurricanes always bypass the area. "Life's not a roll of the dice, but some people like to make it like that," he says. "Eventually, the odds are not going to be in your favor. People tend to forget that part of the equation."
Even as he watches unforgettable scenes playing out in Mississippi and Louisiana - videotape of people being airlifted from their roofs - Butterworth sees reason for hope.
"What officials need to do is keep those tapes of people desperately calling and make some public service announcement out of them," he says. Play the tapes of those stranded, scared people, he says, with one final tag line: "And nobody could come."
"Sometimes," Butterworth says, "you have to scare the bejesus out of people to get them to act."