In the Eye of the Hurricane

By: Elián Zidán

Milton, I will never forget your name. You were my first hurricane—both as a journalist and as a resident of Florida.

Since moving to Miami in December 2021, I had heard countless stories from colleagues about covering hurricanes. But I always wondered: when would it be my turn?

That moment came when I was at the gym and got a call saying I had to head out immediately to West Florida to cover the rapidly approaching Hurricane Milton, which was strengthening as it neared landfall.

With just an hour to prepare, I grabbed what I thought I’d need to survive the storm and made a quick stop at the supermarket to pick up food for the crew and myself.

Along with the Univision News crew, we started driving west. It felt like something straight out of an apocalyptic movie: traffic was heading in the opposite direction, while we were practically the only ones heading straight toward the hurricane.

As night fell, so did the sense of unease. We had no idea what we were about to face. The weather forecasts weren’t promising—Milton was swinging between Category 4 and 5.

When we finally reached Florida's west coast, we checked the storm’s trajectory and realized the impact wouldn’t be in Tampa as expected. It would hit Sarasota, where we were.

As the hours went by, Milton’s heavy rains and high winds crept closer.

We did countless live hits, and during one of them, we found ourselves in the eye of the hurricane.

In the middle of the storm’s fury, a sudden calm took us by surprise. The rain stopped, and the fierce winds vanished.

But that calm didn’t last long. In an instant, the eye of the storm passed, and the outer bands of Milton hit with full force.

Electric transformers exploded in the street, the power went out, and phone signals were lost.

There was no way for us to communicate, and we couldn’t let the team in Miami know that we wouldn’t be able to be live in the evening newscast.

The tension in Miami grew as minutes stretched into hours. For several hours, they lost all communication with us without any explanation.

In the darkness, with the howling wind outside, my cell phone finally rang. It was a producer in Miami, and for the first time in what felt like forever, we were able to tell them that we were safe.

The next day, we set out early to begin a long day of reporting. From the first show to the last, we drove around the area, describing the damage we saw.

The destruction was widespread and varied across the state. In Sarasota, we saw everything from a sailboat stranded on a sidewalk to an entire house titled to one side.

Gas stations were without fuel, and businesses were slowly reopening. The longest lines at the supermarkets were for hot food.

What shocked me the most, though, was the reaction on social media. The insensitivity of some people was staggering. Not only were there those more concerned with pointing out how I dragged my feet in a video, but there were others eagerly awaiting “more destruction.”

The recovery will be long and expensive. Material things can be replaced, but the lives lost in this storm can never be. If there’s one positive thing to take away from a tragedy like this, it’s that, despite the deep divisions in our society, moments of adversity show us that we can still come together and support one another.

Milton will be a name I’ll never forget—not just for me, but for so many who were affected by this hurricane. We made it back home, but countless families were left without basic comforts, and some homeless.