Flood Insurance: An American Nightmare, With a Side of Absurdity

Flood Insurance: An American Nightmare, With a Side of Absurdity

Flood insurance—a real-life American nightmare. I had the dubious honor of a front-row seat to one of the most bizarre Catch-22s in the world, and trust me, it’s a performance you don’t want to attend. It all began when I accidentally bought a house in a “hundred-year flood plain,” which sounds safe until you realize it’s just code for “once-in-a-lifetime disaster waiting to happen.” The details of that transaction will be the focus of another post, for when you need a laugh or a lesson.

The real kicker here is how our friendly neighborhood insurance companies—those bastions of compassion and clarity—have decided to play their latest round of flood dodgeball. They’ve been turning down flood claims faster than you can say “category five,” and what’s their excuse? “Oh, you should’ve bought flood insurance!” Brilliant, right? Except here’s the inconvenient truth: you "can’t" buy flood insurance unless you live in a designated flood plain.

But fear not, because Uncle Sam, in his infinite bureaucratic wisdom, will sell you flood insurance… "only" if FEMA’s hydrological fortune tellers have cursed your property.

And so, there I was, proudly (and naively) standing on my hundred-year flood plain—translation: a place where the odds of getting flooded were supposedly 1 in 100. Those seemed like decent odds back in the day, when “climate change” was still something people debated, rather than the daily reality of melting ice caps, disappearing coastlines, and, well, flood zones that no longer care about your quaint little “hundred-year” predictions. I thought I’d practically won the anti-lottery. Little did I know that climate change had a nasty habit of turning winners into losers overnight.?

So now, my hundred-year floodplain has gone from a statistical anomaly to a place where I half expect to be navigating the living room by canoe. And speaking of water-world realities, let’s take a moment to appreciate that immortal quote from the stable genius himself: "Rising oceans will create more beachfront property!" Sure, Donald. Who wouldn’t want to live in Venice, New Jersey, where gondolas are the primary mode of transportation?

But I digress. Let’s get back to some real wisdom, courtesy of General Russell Honore, who has a much more sensible take on the situation: “If you can see water from your house, congratulations, you’re in a flood zone.” No maps are necessary, folks. Forget those outdated charts designating hundred-, five-hundred-, or even thousand-year floodplains. The new rule of thumb? If you can spot a puddle, start shopping for a kayak and flood insurance—oh wait, you can’t, unless the government decides you’re worthy.?

This brings me to my recommendation, one that might seem crazy but makes perfect sense in today’s topsy-turvy climate: Why not just treat "all" land as a floodplain? Yes, you heard me. Let’s not pretend anymore. The old lines and categories are out-of-date, thanks to climate change rewriting the rules of nature. Whether it’s the hundred-year, five-hundred-year, or thousand-year flood plain—let’s just lump it all together and admit that Mother Nature doesn’t care about our carefully drawn maps. If you’re on this planet, you’re in a flood zone. Period.

And while we’re at it, how about expanding flood insurance to everyone, everywhere? Think of it as insurance against the inevitable. Call it the “puddle plan,” because we know that thanks to climate change, any place with a water feature—be it a charming creek or a storm drain that occasionally burps up rainwater—could be the next Atlantis. After all, if we’re living in a world where beachfront property is showing up in landlocked towns, it’s time we adjust our insurance policies accordingly. That way, we can all sleep soundly at night, knowing we’re covered when the next deluge arrives.

Flood insurance for the masses! Because in today’s world, the only thing crazier than buying a house in a flood plain is thinking you’re safe just because you don’t live in one. Thanks, climate change, for turning us all into amateur meteorologists, cartographers, and—unfortunately—paddle enthusiasts.