The problem is that the scale itself is terribly flawed in determining the true destructive power of one of these beasts. Yet we cite it like it is an absolute: "Oh, that's just a Category 2 storm. It's nothing to worry about."
I'm guilty of this kind of statement myself. You see, my parents live blocks from the Atlantic surf in the Myrtle Beach area of South Carolina. So I've spent many an hour in their living room watching The Weather Channel with my dad and trying to convince him that he doesn't have to worry about some storm boiling out of the Caribbean because it's just a "Cat 2."
The problem with this way of thinking is that it gets people killed. It rocks people gently into complacency. It convinces them that even though some monster with the sweet name of "Jenny" is coming to turn their dream house into kindling that it's OK to stay and ride out the storm rather than evacuate to higher ground.
People don't evacuate out of the path of hurricanes for a variety of reasons. One, it's a monumental pain in the hindquarters to evacuate, especially from a major city. Two, hurricanes are the ultimate teases; the majority of these storms weaken before they reach land or they turn to wreak havoc on somebody else or they head north to die in cooler waters. Three, even if the hurricane hits and hits hard, homeowners believe they need to stay and protect their property from looters because they know you will be too busy rescuing people like them who try to ride out the storm.
But I think another reason that people don't evacuate out of the path of these storms is that this whole "Cat 1," "Cat 2," "Cat 3" business is misleading them. Here's a newsflash for anyone who believes a "Cat 2" hurricane is just a bunch of harmless wind and rain: Hurricane Ike, which just wrecked Galveston Island and cut a swath of destruction through southeast Texas and southwest Louisiana, was a Cat 2.