I want to send out a big “thank you, thank you” to our local TV meteorologists. They’ve done a tremendous job lately helping us navigate sub-freezing temperatures, deluge-type rain, funnel clouds, straight line winds and all manner of weather craziness.
These guys are not just giving us their “Yep, looks like rain” opinion after a gander out the window, either. No, they have university degrees in meteorology after taking courses in radar intricacies like debris balls and hook echoes. They learned about jet streams and cold fronts and what paths a tropical storm/possible hurricane would most likely take. That’s a lot to master.
I don’t know this for sure, but my guess is that the final exam must involve standing in front of a blue screen and talking for five hours straight. And not about nothing, like filibustering senators. Not even like radio sports announcers who do a stream of consciousness feed of everything they’re seeing on the field. No, the meteorologists have to be ready at a moment’s notice to interpret and broadcast life-threatening situations that change with every sweep of the radar.
They do this in pairs, and for good reason. It’s an intense job, watching the screen, extending the polygons, correctly pronouncing the names of all the towns and roadways that are in the funnel cloud’s immediate path. As soon as the winds whip up, I picture them perched on a couch in the green room, doing last minute carbo-loading, waiting for the National Weather Service to make their pronouncement so they can spring into action.
One meteorologist will talk for 15 minutes or so and then the other one will tag in. Perhaps they have a corner person like a boxer, someone who pours some Gatorade down their gullet, touches up their makeup and then shoves them back out in front of the camera for the next round.
The radar keeps spinning and the meteorologists keep talking. Sometimes, there is a lot to say in a hurry. At other times, the radar isn’t very active, but as long as there is a tornado warning anyplace in the viewing area, the meteorologists have to keep talking. They fill in with reminders about designating a safe place, a small room with no windows. (See, I was listening.) They remind you to bring your medications and a bicycle helmet if you have one. These are good things to hear, even if you’ve heard them many times before.
This polygon thing can go on for hours, which has to be exhausting, not to mention that lives depend on the meteorologists getting it right. They do all the requisite talking in calm and reassuring tones, making their viewers feel like they are in good hands. I appreciate that.
What I do not appreciate is the Johnny-Come-Lately group from the emergency something or another (See, I don’t listen.) who breaks in with a jarring foghorn sound effect that sends my dog Dave right through the roof. The voice is loud and robotic and s-l-o-w. and by the time their announcement is finished, the radar has spun several more times and the situation has changed completely.
But, thank goodness, our steadfast meteorologists keep going until, with an audible sigh of relief, the emergency is past and the station can return to regular programming. I don’t know what happens after that, but if anyone at the station had a lick of sense, they’d make sure there was chocolate cake back in the green room. And no one … no one … would be allowed to talk for at least an hour.
