DESPITE THREAT, MANY WILL ‘RIDE OUT’ IRMA

>> MIAMI BEACH: As hurricane Irma threatened catastrophic damage to Florida, patrons at the most infamous South Beach dive bar tossed back drinks, shot pool and played the jukebox loud.

Clouds of cigarette smoke floated in the air at Mac’s Club Deuce where Miami Beach resident Kathleen Paca, 56, was perched on a stool.

She’d just finished spray painting “We’re Open Irma” on the bar’s plywood window protections. The word “Irma” covered “Wilma”, the 2005 hurricane when the plywood was last used.

Ms Paca and other regulars at the Deuce, as it’s known to locals, had no qualms about staying home as Irma approached, even with the storm projected to be one of the strongest to ever make landfall in Florida.

“Where am I going to go?” Ms Paca said. “It’s not going to be that bad.

“I’m on the second floor and have impact windows.

“I’ve thrown coconuts at my windows and they don’t break.”

Despite officials calling for more than 6 million people in Florida and Georgia to evacuate in advance of Irma’s storm surge and fierce winds, some around Florida are choosing to stay, a rite of passage for many in the state whose residents boast about the storms they weathered: Camille, Andrew, Katrina and others.

While many of the state’s poor have little choice but to stay put at home or head to a shelter, people who can choose are opting to ride the storm out rather than risk driving hundreds of kilometres north with no sure source of gasoline or accommodation.

“I have two choices; stay, or run north — a bad idea” said Michel Polette, 31, who lives a couple of blocks from the Atlantic Ocean in South Beach.

“If you drive to Atlanta or Tallahassee, you’re risking running out of gas and being in your car in a category 4 hurricane.”

Residents at the Treasure Village Mobile Home Park in St Petersburg, about four hours northwest of Miami Beach, said they weren’t leaving either — even though the county called for an evacuation of all mobile homes, regardless of whether they were inland or near the water.

“I’m not going anywhere,” said 56-yearold Laurie Mastropaolo, who wore a T-shirt with a photo of the iconic “Grumpy Cat” that said, “This is my happy face”.

Ms Mastropaolo was talking to a neighbour, 79-year-old William Castor.

Mr Castor, shirtless in the 35C heat, said he hadn’t yet heard about the mandatory mobile home evacuation. County and city officials hadn’t yet come to the park.

“The storm’s 1,000 miles away,” he said, shrugging. “It could go to Kalamazoo.”

Mr Castor was raised in Miami, and Ms Mastropaolo said she weathered storms on Long Island, including Sandy. Neither has lived in the park for a year, and neither was convinced that it was necessary to leave for Irma, at least not yet.

“If I lived in Miami, I’d be outta there,” Ms Mastropaolo said. “But here, I’ll wait till the last minute. I’m not going to get on the road with the crazy people.”

Mr Castor said: “I’m not saying you should ignore it, but it’s gotta get closer for me to decide.”