The Weather Channel’s Jim Cantore Is the Hurricane Ian Hero We Deserve

My dad recently likened hurricanes to being attacked by a giant turtle. All you know is that it’s going to be slow, and it’s going to hurt. In the midst of these endlessly frustrating and potentially deadly storms, Floridians and other hurricane-sufferers have developed two reliable benchmarkers to tell when things are getting bad: Waffle House closures and the sudden appearance of Jim Cantore. And it’s time to recognize Mr. Cantore for the absolute legend that he is.

There are a lot of storm chasers out in the world. Not The Weather Channel’s Jim Cantore. He is a storm god. If there is a hurricane capable of knocking down power lines, ignoring sea walls, and yeeting your lawn furniture into the next county, Jim Cantore will be there. And he will bring you the wildest footage you’ve ever seen.

Clips of Cantore recently surfaced while he was covering Hurricane Ian in Cayo Costa in southern Florida. Let’s really spell out this man’s commitment to his craft. When Hurricane Ian first made landfall, it was a category 4 hurricane. That means wind speeds of 130 to 156 miles per hour. Cantore was unfazed. When Ian threw a freaking tree at him, he recovered like he had just stumbled up a flight of stairs:

When the winds were so severe that he couldn’t stand upright, Cantore simply kneeled down for a few seconds before continuing like nothing happened:

When Ian threw lighting at him, Cantore jumped. Of course he did; it was lightning. But the second he realized that the weather had bested him, he shook his head in disappointment, channeling the energy of every dad who has ever been frightened by a moth:

There are storm chasing bros, and then there’s Jim Cantore, a man who sternly stares down the eye of the storm and asks it to please cooperate. He’s trying to do his job.

Some people may claim that sensationalized weather reports like the ones Cantore specializes in are dangerous and that they may encourage people to copy him. Ignore those complaints. Those people are not from Florida. Floridians are a rare and hearty breed, the type of people who roll their eyes when politicians beg them to evacuate. They celebrate looming natural disasters with booze and invitations to hurricane parties. Those aren’t an exaggeration. Hurricane parties are very real and very fun. As a Florida native, I have many memories of rushing onto the beach as a ‘cane approached, solely because the waves were high and I absolutely had to play in them. Floridians are going to treat hurricanes like their own personal water park no matter what’s on TV, so just give up on that losing argument.

Cantore’s weather-based antics may actually help to dissuade people from trying out stunts for themselves. For example, the Florida swamp monster buried deep within me really wants to go to the beach and run so I can see how slow I’d be. But I’m not going to do that. Why? Jim Cantore is basically already doing that. I can vicariously experience what it’s like through him.

No, the real value Jim Cantore provides is one that he has inadvertently created. By now, everyone on East Coast knows that Cantore has a reputation for seeking out the most dangerous storms. When you see him in your city, that is your canary in the coal mine. Run. Stop messing around, get the hell out of the water, and go home. He’s also probably good at weather stuff, too. I don’t really know; I’m pretty clueless about meteorology.

The point is, as horrible as hurricanes are, they have a hero. Mr. Cantore, thank you for serving as our living red flag. I would love to one day shake your hand if I wasn’t terrified there would be a hurricane lurking behind your back.