Sean and Jack
9.15.2005
Hey yall, we went in.
Well, we couldn't take it anymore. Sitting in Floridian paradise, unable to know what to do with ourselves was becoming too much to endure. Tuesday afternoon Sean and I left for New Orleans.
We were told that all roads were closed, and no persons would be allowed in. The previous days had been filled with reports from friends and family who had gone, but we had also seen both violent and amicable evacuation scenes on television.
Our decision to go back was truly hinged on the fact that we had nothing better to do. Besides, all of this pretend peace of mind was driving us nuts. We keep trying to act like we are on vacation, so that it doesn’t make all of our hosts miserable, but really we (at least I) sort of feel like screaming every few minutes. Sometimes an impulsive road trip is the only cure for a restless spirit.
We employed our good ol’ American senses of conservation and filled up the F150 and drove about 1400 miles roundtrip in order to …. Um…collect our thoughts? We also collected some practicals like tools and work clothes.
We arrived into Covington (across the lake from N.O.) at about 3:30 A.M.. It was really dark and silent. The 11:00 curfew was in effect and nobody was around. The proud trees that proliferated Covington were collapsed and stacked like dead soldiers after a battle. I still can’t believe how sad it and scary it felt. We tried to come up with some kind of strategy or story, because surely someone, some kind of gate-keeper will ask us something…right?
We decided that perhaps a nap was in order, so we parked in front of Merica’s house and slept in her driveway until the mosquitoes woke us up. Sometime after 4 A.M., we decided to head for the causeway bridge.
The entrance to the bridge was heavily guarded by police and the electric sign insisted that the causeway was “closed due to weather”. As we got closer, we grew even more nervous. The truck in front of us was the only other car we had seen on the road. He was carrying palates of bricks. He stopped and spoke to the guard, then moved through the gate. We didn’t stop. We just waved that country truck wave, and the guard waved back.
Yeah. They didn’t ask us for our story. That was a very cool disappointment.
Once we arrived in Metarie, we could see that patches of power had been restored, but largely it was an empty abandoned city with no sign of life. I 10 was barricaded. At least, someone had barricaded it recently, but it could have been easily breached.
We drove down river road. The only things we could see were feral cats, broken oaks, and army HumVs. Nobody actually cared that we were there, driving around unofficially.
When we arrived at our house, it was dark. The glass pane in Doug’s door was broken and the door was left wide open. Clearly, someone had been sleeping in our beds. We were too scared to go in, so we went and sat in the truck near a well-lit area where the press was camped.
As soon as the sun made an appearance, we entered our home, Sean with a flashlight and I with (don’t laugh) a billy club. I’m a little embarrassed about my weapon. Much to our astonishment, all was well. Someone had clearly rummaged through our drawers, but it looked like all they took was our change, some clothes and our bikes. Too bad about the bikes, but if they helped someone, I am pleased.
The damage to our home is minimal. The town will be hard to fix, but it can be done with some solidarity, patients, and elbow grease.
We have heard that people will be allowed to return next week, but we are ready to wait until it is slightly more inhabitable. The trash, flies, and lack of water, is a little overwhelming. Not to mention the chaos of re-entry.
Sean will likely go back in 2 weeks. With any luck, William will join him and help him fix the fence before I bring the dogs back. In the mean time, I will try to work and get some income for a while.
I have posted some pictures for everyone. There are more on my other blog http://ccmuses.blogspot.com
I don’t know who is reading this anymore, but I would love to collect some photos of our friends that are scattered about. If anyone can, please send a picture so we can all have a look at our loved ones, safe in their space. Email me at nolajacqui@yahoo.com.
We were told that all roads were closed, and no persons would be allowed in. The previous days had been filled with reports from friends and family who had gone, but we had also seen both violent and amicable evacuation scenes on television.
Our decision to go back was truly hinged on the fact that we had nothing better to do. Besides, all of this pretend peace of mind was driving us nuts. We keep trying to act like we are on vacation, so that it doesn’t make all of our hosts miserable, but really we (at least I) sort of feel like screaming every few minutes. Sometimes an impulsive road trip is the only cure for a restless spirit.
We employed our good ol’ American senses of conservation and filled up the F150 and drove about 1400 miles roundtrip in order to …. Um…collect our thoughts? We also collected some practicals like tools and work clothes.
We arrived into Covington (across the lake from N.O.) at about 3:30 A.M.. It was really dark and silent. The 11:00 curfew was in effect and nobody was around. The proud trees that proliferated Covington were collapsed and stacked like dead soldiers after a battle. I still can’t believe how sad it and scary it felt. We tried to come up with some kind of strategy or story, because surely someone, some kind of gate-keeper will ask us something…right?
We decided that perhaps a nap was in order, so we parked in front of Merica’s house and slept in her driveway until the mosquitoes woke us up. Sometime after 4 A.M., we decided to head for the causeway bridge.
The entrance to the bridge was heavily guarded by police and the electric sign insisted that the causeway was “closed due to weather”. As we got closer, we grew even more nervous. The truck in front of us was the only other car we had seen on the road. He was carrying palates of bricks. He stopped and spoke to the guard, then moved through the gate. We didn’t stop. We just waved that country truck wave, and the guard waved back.
Yeah. They didn’t ask us for our story. That was a very cool disappointment.
Once we arrived in Metarie, we could see that patches of power had been restored, but largely it was an empty abandoned city with no sign of life. I 10 was barricaded. At least, someone had barricaded it recently, but it could have been easily breached.
We drove down river road. The only things we could see were feral cats, broken oaks, and army HumVs. Nobody actually cared that we were there, driving around unofficially.
When we arrived at our house, it was dark. The glass pane in Doug’s door was broken and the door was left wide open. Clearly, someone had been sleeping in our beds. We were too scared to go in, so we went and sat in the truck near a well-lit area where the press was camped.
As soon as the sun made an appearance, we entered our home, Sean with a flashlight and I with (don’t laugh) a billy club. I’m a little embarrassed about my weapon. Much to our astonishment, all was well. Someone had clearly rummaged through our drawers, but it looked like all they took was our change, some clothes and our bikes. Too bad about the bikes, but if they helped someone, I am pleased.
The damage to our home is minimal. The town will be hard to fix, but it can be done with some solidarity, patients, and elbow grease.
We have heard that people will be allowed to return next week, but we are ready to wait until it is slightly more inhabitable. The trash, flies, and lack of water, is a little overwhelming. Not to mention the chaos of re-entry.
Sean will likely go back in 2 weeks. With any luck, William will join him and help him fix the fence before I bring the dogs back. In the mean time, I will try to work and get some income for a while.
I have posted some pictures for everyone. There are more on my other blog http://ccmuses.blogspot.com
I don’t know who is reading this anymore, but I would love to collect some photos of our friends that are scattered about. If anyone can, please send a picture so we can all have a look at our loved ones, safe in their space. Email me at nolajacqui@yahoo.com.
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