I wrote about the costs and the eerily atomized/connected world of darkness and rumor in post-hurricane Tampa, and how basically everyone was lovely and humane except for Truck Dads ready to chest bump each other like bald apes if their right to fill up 20 jerrycans of gasoline was slightly delayed.

The Story of the Hurricanes

How Floridians struggled through the successive traumas of Helene and Milton

This is good, man. I wonder if there's some sort of therapy to help truck dads, like first stir up all their bullshit--maybe take their phone away and make them wait for 2 hours in a room that has trans people in it and Oprah on the TV--and then they take peyote or whatever

Great piece, always look forward to reading your stuff. Sorry about, you know, everything