By John Hayden

There are two types of cones South Floridians concern themselves with as we swelter through the dog days of summer.

The first cone is the kind you get at Dairy Queen. Smooth, cool, refreshing soft serve ice cream. There’s always a line at the DQ on Wilton Drive, with Lynn and her staff working to keep everyone cool. This is my favorite type of cone.

The other cone is not nearly as much fun. This cone is an angry red that curves and shifts and has ominously increasing numbers. On TV, meteorologists calmly call it The Cone of Concern. In the newsrooms we call it everything from the Cone of Panic to the Cone of Doom.

Gallows humor, to be sure. But it’s a way we cope. During one particularly active hurricane season, someone coped by wearing an orange traffic cone for Halloween. It was more tasteful than it sounds.

While hurricane season technically started June 1, it’s August through October when South Florida is in the Category 3 crosshairs. We start watching dust storms over the Sahara move into the Atlantic. If they start to “organize,” we await The Cone.

Cone Customs

There are several cone-related rituals we all know.

First, even though the forecast is only updated every six-ish hours, we all refresh our weather apps every few minutes while intoning “No Whammie, No Whammie, No Whammie!” Insider tip: most updates from the National Hurricane Center come down about 15 minutes before the scheduled time. So the 2PM  update comes down about 1:45.

Many go spiritual. Some pray The Cone away. Some burn incense. Some try to put a santeria-like curse on the hurricane. It’s much like the cursed bats of Pedro Cerrano in the movie Major League. And if the gods don’t accept your offerings of cigars and rum, at least you have something to smoke and drink during a hurricane party.

But my favorite ritual, which I’ve been seen doing on TV, is waving my arms to the right or left like I’m watching a field goal attempt. “Go right.. go right.. go right.. NOOOOOOO!”

I guess it all comes down to the power of positive thinking. If you live here long enough, The Cone will haunt your dreams.

That said, here’s to making it to Halloween, and the only cones in our future are at the DQ. Tell ‘em John sent you!