Leaving
High Ground
A story of life in New Orleans
during hurricane Katrina
(click on image for large pic)
A
night of choppers
Our
house is located about 10 blocks from a hospital that
had just been flooded. Throughout the night choppers
came in one after another. Every thirty seconds one
would pass about 200 yards over our roof. It went
on all night. The water had crept up to about a foot
on our street by this time. All the people in the
bad part of town about a mile away that had been on
dry ground were starting to wander into our neighborhood.
There was occasional gunfire. A small crowd would
pass by about once an hour. We stood on the porch
with guns in hand. At this time the gas started to
run low. We had been banking on the fact that we could
get to our cars located in downtown at some point
for that gas. We knew we had to go out to siphon some
from a few of the older cars in the street. Under
the cover of darkness we went out into the rising
water. As we filled our tanks other gangs with trucks
and spotlights were roaming the neutral ground doing
the same thing we were. Eventually a large army vehicle
came by and all the little people scattered back to
their holes in the night. Tonight, sleep would come
to an end for many days to come. I sat in the heat
with the shotgun lying next to me listing to chopper
after chopper fly over our house. My hearing became
sharper and sharper with every moan, scream, and gunshot.
A
day of Airboat
We
all woke up the next day not knowing what to think.
Most of the outside world wanted us to turn ourselves
over to the authorities. Nobody would know until the
next day how horrible things had become at the Superdome.
We knew. We would try just about anything to get to
Baton Rouge. All day we were hoping the water would
just drop a foot or two and we could simply drive
the van out. Some of the National Guard just down
the street told us that river road was now clear and
we could drive out. The water was supposed to be going
down, but there was a constant stream of airboats
pushing water off the major road down our little street.
Near dusk the decision was made. We covered the engine
with a tarp, stuffed the tailpipe with cloth, and
pushed the van 100 yards through knee-deep water to
the dry ground. We covered the van with branches and
left it to dry for the night.
A
night of silence
Would
the van be there? Would it start? Would the looting
and violence become truly nasty during the night?
The choppers were all gone and the sound of desperate
people became ever louder. We decided to turn off
the generators, cover up the windows and make our
run at dawn. Some would sleep. I would not sleep a
wink for the second night in a row. As soon as the
sun went down things got nasty outside. I would not
put the shotgun down for many hours. At about 5:00
when the darkness began to break it was time to make
our Freedom Run.
The
Freedom Run
The
first task was to see if the van would start. It fired
right up. We headed back to the house to let everyone
else know it was time to pack up. We all got one backpack.
My brother and I took one plastic bin with hard drives,
a laptop, the camera equipment, and super important
business documents. We loaded the two dogs into our
tiny inflatable boat. We used a king-size inflatable
bed for a raft for the rest of the stuff and headed
to the van. People along the streets started to creep
a little closer to see what we were up to. The shotgun
was held high at all times. We loaded up the van and
rolled out of town. We had to dodge trees and power
lines all along the river road until we hit 1-10 and
causeway (located about 7 miles from downtown). There
were hundreds, maybe thousands of people standing
on the side of the side of 1-10 at the roadblock.
I assume they had walked there. The authorities would
not let them through. We would learn a few days later
they would burn the mall down right next to the intersection.
Once we made it past Lake Pontchartrain we knew we
could at least walk to Baton Rouge if we had to. All
along the road to Baton Rouge we passed 100-vehicle
caravans headed to New Orleans. We saw Tour buses,
Texas State troupers, Wildlife trucks with boats,
Military Vehicles, one convoy after another. Our cousin
was on his way to come pick us up in my mom’s
nice car. At last, freedom from anarchy, violence,
and human misery. We would stop at a friend’s
house in Baton Rouge and two of our buddies decided
to stay there. The four remaining souls, and the two
dogs, would drive through the night to Oklahoma City.
The van would only make it to Tyler Texas. The van
could have limped to OKC but it was time for everyone
to pile into mom’s nice SUV. It would be a day
or two before the adrenaline would wear off. The pain
in my bones arrived but at least I could now sleep.
The reality of a life destroyed started to hit me.
Time to re-build. My computer network and business
would go live 2 weeks after the disaster. I look forward
to the day I can move back home.
