Die-hards hang on tight in Keys
As Hurricane Irma barreled into Key West, Fla., Peter Borch stood atop the oldest guesthouse in the city, a converted Victorian mansion built in 1880, to film the unfolding mayhem.
Storm gusts bent nearby palm trees nearly in half, stripping and scattering fronds down empty streets. The horizon was nearly obscured by a white wall of surf roaring in.
"The eyewall is about to hit here in Key West. No power. Trees down. No flooding," Borch, 31, shouted to be heard over the wind.
Then he shifted focus to a porch below, where an older man sat, shirtless, sipping coffee from a mug, oblivious to the onslaught.
From initial reports Sunday, it appeared that the Florida Keys had taken a pounding but dodged the sort of catastrophic disaster that had
