In another thread, Botnst expressed delight that I survived the late unpleasantness in New Orleans, and suggested I start a thread to tell my story. Here goes . . .

When, on Saturday night, I found a lot of stores were closed already, I started to think, "Well, maybe I should bug out . . ." But I was reluctant to leave only to sit in traffic. Last year, with Ivan, the second-raters who run the city and the state screamed that the sky was falling, and people sat on the highways for 8 and 12 hours -- all for nothing.

Then Mayor Nagin declared a real, honest-to-Martha mandatory evacuation. My friend Miss Linda and I threw clothes into bags and cats into carriers, and got rolling.

Rolling. Ha. It took us 12 hours to crawl 120 miles, up and through Baton Rouge. Among other discomforts: no place to stop to pee. I finally had to pull to the shoulder, hop out, and take care of business on the far side of the car. Near BR, where we made a pit stop, people were lining up to use any bathroom in a Burger King, no matter what the sign said on the door.

At 10:30 that night I was exhausted. The State Police steered us to a shelter in exciting downtown Erwinville, LA. It was air-conditioned -- almost too much so, when you're trying to sleep on the floor -- and they offered coffee. But they wouldn't let us bring the cats inside, even in their carriers. Fortunately it was cool and rainy outside, so they wouldn't suffocate in the car, and Linda gave them a quick litterbox break. (Just like me on the side of the road, come to think of it.)

Miraculously, the roads were clear at 6:00 am. We hustled out from under the rain clouds and into Texas sunshine, and got to our hotel in College Station in less than 8 hours. I don't know what heaven will be like, but I suspect it'll be a pale imitation after the sheer luxury of a hot shower, a comfortable bed, and a hot dinner. I highly recommend Homewood Suites, by the way; they not only accepted the cats, but they served a full hot breakfast (not just rolls and coffee) 7 days a week and dinner 5 nights a week. It would have been like a vacation, if we hadn't been worrying about our neighborhood back home.

After the hotel, we wound up staying in a two-bedroom house owned by a local church member and businessman near the university. When internet and media sources suggested it was OK to come back and look, we did, and found our places were untouched. Suffused with garbage smells, and the refrigerators needed to be cleaned out, but everything was fine. So we returned, packed, and came back to the swamp.

Impressions since we've been back: So much for the "smaller, gentler" city we were promised. There are fewer people here, but most of them seem to be crammed onto the West Bank, so traffic is no lighter. Every corner has signs saying "We're hiring!", but those jobs don't pay enough to live on -- even if you can find housing. Blue roofs everywhere, thanks to FEMA. Curfew in my area, 2 am to 6 am. And several neighborhoods on the East Bank, though dry now, look as though they'd been bombed.

People here keep making brave sounds like "We're coming back!" and "Mardi Gras in 2006!" Personally, I liken those noises to reassurances from deck officers on the Titanic. Yes, my employer, Tulane University, is coming back, and I don't think they can cut my job (I'm the office manager for a big department with a lot of majors).

But this place is never going to be the same.

(As for MB content, I'll post another thread on how the W202 handled things.)

__________________
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-- Paul W. (The Benzadmiral)
('03 Buick Park Avenue, charcoal/cream)
Formerly:
'97 C230, smoke silver/parchment; '86 420SEL, anthracite/light grey; '84 280CE (W123), dark blue/palomino