KISSIMMEE, Fla., Sept. 4 -- Al Cialella is from Philadelphia, where he always thought of "sturdy" oak trees as symbols of strength. He never knew that in central Florida, the water table is so close to the surface that oak trees have unusually shallow roots. But then Hurricane Charley ripped through Kissimmee three weeks ago, knocking down oaks like bowling pins. Now he knows.
It may seem strange to describe a natural disaster as a teaching moment, but as the outer bands of Hurricane Frances began pelting Kissimmee on Saturday morning, some of Charley's lessons already seemed to be taking root.
At Westside Elementary School in Palm Bay, evacuees check on the weather. Millions have fled their homes in advance of the hurricane.
(Wilfredo Lee -- AP)
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Audio: The Post's Manuel Roig-Franzia reports from Miami Beach on the preparations for the arrival of Hurricane Frances.
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Video: As Hurricane Frances lumbered toward Florida Friday, people from the coastal areas continued to seek safer ground.
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Locals who had ignored warnings about Charley were now armed with flashlights, duct tape, plywood and generators. At least eight times as many residents had taken cover in emergency shelters in anticipation of Frances. Here at the expected intersection of the two storm paths, newcomers who would not have known a 100-year floodplain from a 100-yard dash before Charley's approach from the southwest now sounded like seasoned hydrologists preparing for Frances to arrive from the southeast.
Many Florida residents come from elsewhere -- usually the Northeast, the Midwest or Latin America -- and many go decades without seeing the dark side of the Sunshine State. But this fast-growing suburb near Disney World is getting an education in the Florida not mentioned in brochures for the "happiest place on Earth." Best known as the gateway to the Magic Kingdom, featuring a surreal strip of motels and T-shirt shops shaped like medieval castles and giant oranges, Kissimmee was in line for a second massive storm as Frances approached.
"I think Mother Nature taught us a few lessons about Florida last month," said Cialella, a deputy fire marshal here in Osceola County. "I have a feeling we're about to learn a few more."
The state of Florida is one of man's most successful rebellions against nature, a paradise made possible by air conditioning, bug spray and the world's most elaborate water control system.
But the most striking lesson of Charley, and of every other hurricane in Florida's history, is that nature cannot be controlled all the time, and that it is wise to stay out of the way.
Tad Stone, the county's public safety director, said that only a few hundred residents used emergency shelters during Charley, which caused almost $300 million in damage to the county.
His department had to assist hundreds who neglected to store provisions, ignored warnings about downed power lines and injured themselves trying to fix their roofs. He is worried that Frances could cause devastating flooding and that debris from Charley could turn into deadly missiles during Frances, but he thinks his community is substantially more prepared.
"These people are not from Florida, and they didn't know how to deal with a hurricane," said Stone, one of the rare native Floridians in town. "But I think now maybe they're starting to get it."
Saturday morning, more than 3,000 people were in Kissimmee's emergency shelters. Few had ever seen a hurricane before Charley or knew to pronounce it "hurrikin," as a native Floridian does. But most of them were determined to make sure they never weathered another storm at home.
Cindy Elliott, an Ohio native who works in Disney's costume-buying department, recalled how Charley shook her duplex, paralyzing her with fear. Martha Parra, a real estate agent from Colombia, is still haunted by the whoosh of a tornado that passed by her apartment complex while she was huddled with her daughters in a closet. Frank Farmer, originally from South Carolina, was hospitalized for heatstroke during the power outages that followed Charley.
Michelle and Mark Patton, who moved to Kissimmee from Indianapolis in 2002, stayed home when Charley came because they thought meteorologists were making a big deal about nothing -- until they watched an oak tree blow over like a twig, a transformer explode and a shingle crash through their window.
This time, Elliott, Parra, Farmer and the Pattons all decided to wait out Frances in shelters.
