THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Friday, August 18, 1995 TAG: 9508180508
SECTION: LOCAL PAGE: B1 EDITION: FINAL
SOURCE: BY MARK MOBLEY, STAFF WRITER
LENGTH: Medium: 99 lines
After days of scary headlines, stern-voiced radio announcements and satellite pictures, Thursday dawned blue, warm and breezy.
The power was on. People went to work. And Ben Kinchlow of ``The 700 Club'' stood on the roof of the CBN studios before a backdrop of puffy clouds telling viewers worldwide it was OK to visit the Founders Inn.
For Hampton Roads, the approach and subsequent offshore parking of Hurricane Felix had prompted a giant fire drill. Windows were taped and loose items secured, bottled water and batteries bought - only to have Felix sit and spin.
``This morning, people were just, I don't know - disappointed?'' said George T. Vincent Jr., president of Norfolk's Colonial Hardware, standing in front of a battery rack virtually emptied by Wednesday's pre-Felix rush.
No one in his right mind would wish death and destruction on the Atlantic Coast, but that word - disappointed - cropped up Thursday.
At the Colonial Inn on 28th Street in Virginia Beach, desk clerk Robert Goodwin admitted that Felix had let him down.
``I'm disappointed,'' Goodwin said. ``I hate to admit it, but you get all ready for a storm and basically nothing happens. It would have been better if the storm had blown on through, done its business and gotten out of town.
``Right now everyone's life's on hold waiting to see what it's going to do.''
Maybe the feeling was just unspent adrenalin, the sense that all the gassing up and hunkering down was for nothing.
Because Hampton Roads was ready. Vincent said that in the 15 years he's owned Colonial Hardware, Wednesday was his busiest day. A thousand people came in, and the store restocked six times.
Wednesday evening brought amazing displays of masking-tape creativity. Most stores made X's on their windows. On Norfolk's Colley Avenue, Sunflower Florist opted for a Union Jack design. Szechuan in Ghent had an impressively dense diagonal weave.
In the 1900 block, only one of five stores was cavalier enough to go without taping.
``We have been laughing about this,'' said Nola Groff, owner of The Kitchen Gallery. ``We were so busy all day that we didn't even think about it . . . Besides, the lady next door said, `I will pray for your windows.' ''
Prayers for the windows of the Colley Cantina would have been better spent on something else. The staff dutifully taped all the glass, inside and out, taking special care on the windows behind the restaurant's neon sign.
``I didn't want to take any chances,'' said controller Al Barksdale. But Thursday morning, he found out from his co-owner that there weren't any chances to take. All the windows are shatterproof.
``I said, `Why didn't you tell me that before?' '' Barksdale said, laughing. ``They went to all this work to get this done yesterday. The storm - who knows what's going to happen with it today. The only thing I'm worried about is flooding.''
Not everyone felt let down by the stalled hurricane. Business owners in more vulnerable areas were relieved.
``We were lucky, I'll tell you that,'' said Mike Salmon, general manager of the Sandbridge Restaurant & Raw Bar. ``Even with 80 mph winds and the water, it would have torn this place apart. I was up for a day and a half worrying about it. I went to sleep last night for the first time since Tuesday evening.''
Although the bar was open Thursday, Salmon's restaurant remained closed. There was no food to feed customers.
``I was afraid to order food,'' he said. ``If we had a power outage, we would have lost everything in the coolers.''
Like his boss, assistant manager Jeff Shepherd worried about the storm but took care of his nerves in what has become a rite of passage for coastal residents.
``I have a cocktail,'' he said, smiling broadly. ``I mix up a few drinks, get on the couch, turn on The Weather Channel, and watch it. Personally, I like this kind of weather. It's mystical, in a way, to see the sea rise up and the sky turn gray. It really reminds you of how small you are before Mother Ocean.''
But the sea did not rise up. What was to have been the day after was just another day.
Virginia Beach Lifeguard Mic Sybrandt stood with his back to the surf at Second Street Thursday afternoon, blowing his whistle at people who dared to stroll on the closed beaches.
``I was ready for some scenic change,'' Sybrandt said, a stiff wind blowing his hair into his tanned face. ``I kept hearing this was the storm of the century and it turned out to be a fuzzle. It just fuzzled on us.''
``But it's still out there,'' he said, pointing to the horizon, where the sunshine gave way to dark gray clouds. ``You never know.'' MEMO: Staff writers Kerry Dougherty and Tom Holden contributed to this
report.
ILLUSTRATION: Color photo
RICHARD L. DUNSTON/Staff
Annette Norfleet and Al Barksdale take tape off windows at Colley
Cantina in Norfolk Thursday - windows they had not been told were
shatterproof.
KEYWORDS: HURRICANE FELIX by CNB