I did'nt go. Suzi scared me. I stayed home. And I still got bitten by a great white shark, in my living room. The ocean is about 1000 feet from my house and the rip still sucked me into the sea. It sucked me all the way down to the spot, where there were many kind hearted jet ski riders who rescued me, gave me beer and bratwurst. They told me stories of a time,long ago, when there was a kinder/gentler ocean and wannabe meteorologists were marinated in asian sauces and bbq'd for the benefit of society as a whole. They were often served with a side of dried apple chips and bacon.
After the meal, chanting and ritual sacrifices were performed for the hurricane gods for larger, less kind and less gentle waves, for the local native people were tired of 2-3 footers.
These rituals were obviously effective, because every year from then on, there seems to be a hurricane or two, usually between the months of July and November. And because of laws against cannibalism and murder, there is no shortage of wannabe meteorologists who's sole purpose in life is to hype storms and spread fear amongst the natives for ever more.
Then the kind jet ski folks explained that this is why we now eat bratwurst.
Awesome day y'all!!!!