Dancing Naked on the Tables

A comment from my friend Catherine, who I worked for in New Orleans, brought back a funny memory. After Hurricane Katrina, Catherine knew she could no longer run her business, The Basket Case. I met her to inventory and pack up the store. There were only a few people in the huge building, so the second day, Catherine brought Puppy with her, so he wouldn't be left alone.

The security guard saw Catherine coming in with the dog and went ballistic. "You can't have a dog here." "You have to remove the dog." Catherine was really upset. We were inside our shop, where the guard has no power. I tried to reason with her, but to no avail. She just kept repeating her mantra of "You can't have a dog here." Well, I finally laughed at her and said, "Ma'am, we have this space leased. We could lock the door, dance on the tables naked in front of the big windows and there's not a damn thing you could do about it. So go back to your desk and leave us alone!"

Catherine burst into laughter. The guard went back to her desk and called the building manager. I locked the front door, with Puppy safe inside.

A few minutes later, the building manager showed up at our door. After I let him in, he gave us both a hug. He was so very relieved to see we were ok. And, he never said a word about Puppy being in the shop.

The Way Foreward

After 3 years, I'm back. I found I could not continue writing about New Orleans and our experience walking out. Suffice it to say, we made it. We made it back 6 weeks later to clean out our house, (5 weeks), gut the insides ( 1 day with the services of 2 brothers and their crew), and sell it to a friend. By January we were packed into a trailer, which we had to off load into a truck cause our pickup would not safely pull it, and headed to Pennsylvania. From there, we spent 6 months in Penn Yan, New York on the edge of Kuika Lake at some new friends cottage. Visited back in Pennsylvania with our daughter and son in law. Spent another 6 months house sitting in Virginia.

Now we are house sitting a couple of times a year, when we find somewhere interesting to go. So far we have been to Hillsborough, NC, twice, Ashville, NC, Webster, NY, Tesse Froulay, Normandy, France, Tucson, AZ. and Launceston, Cornwall, England.

We spent last winter in Amarillo, TX, remodeling a bathroom for a Bill's sister. From there, we moved to Tucson AZ, where we are buying a house with our daughter and son in law. This will give us the freedom to travel without having to worry about our home, and give them the freedom to go while we watch their 3 Great Danes.

We have tried to put Katrina behind us, but even so, she crops up when one of us will ask, "Did ??? survive?" At this point the bulk of our belongings have been in boxes for over 4 years. Although I made a good list when we were cleaning out, it's still been a long time since we have seen things. We are looking forward to moving into a new home and unpacking.

Walking Out of New Orleans, Part Three

The closer we came to downtown, the more people were coming up asking us where to go. Most of them were going to the Super Dome or the Convention Center. We just kept walking to the bridge over the Mississippi. Nick had left a message for his dad, so we were looking for him as well. But, how do you find someone in this mess? Bill and John, as well as Sebastian, were over heating. Somehow, in leaving the house in the middle of the night, we had all forgotten our hats. Can you imagine that?

As we came to where the interstate and the start of the bridge happened, we had to take the long way around, as there were trucks and military guys coming into town on the shortest way for us walking. But in all these people coming to "save" us, no one would even acknowledge that we were there! And no one had thought to bring water!?! If my cell phone had worked, I could have called WalMart, used my MasterCard, and had them deliver a truck load. The roads were clear so why did it end up taking them 5 days to bring in water?

We could hear people walking on the road beneath us, who had been turned away from crossing the bridge. Nick and Mike walked on ahead of us. Nick was talking to folks in pickups who had come to help, but were being told to leave. Some of these people had been here helping on a daily basis, but now that the official rescuers were here, they were being ignored. Nick found us a ride in the back of a pickup!

When Bill, John and I finally made it to the truck we had been joined by a gentleman who heading to his daughter's house in Austin. He was retired Air Force. A black man with light colored skin. Now the color of his skin is important to the tale. I asked the owner of the truck if Sebastian could ride it in, and he said sure. But he looked really closely at the man with us. Bill said, "He's with us, ok?" The truck owner didn't look too pleased, but agreed. He had already made some disparaging remarks about a woman who was yelling at her kids.

We all piled into the truck. As we started over the bridge, we were stopped by a policewoman. The man driving the truck said we were family. Well, she looked us over and looked really, really hard at the black man, who had taken the seat next to me. Since his skin was lighter, he might be related. I smiled at her. She seemed to hesitate, then looked back at the driver and told him to go ahead.

Sebastian was the funniest. We had carried him most of the way up to the truck. I was sure he was dying. But when that pickup started moving, he insisted on puttin his head over the edge of the bed, so his nose was in the wind and his ears were flapping. He still couldn't stand, but I knew his doggy survival instinct had kicked in. How could he die when he was going for a ride in the back of a truck?

Crossing that bridge was entering a different world. There were very few people on the other side. No flooding, but quite a bit of wind damage. We were let out at the toll booth parking lot, as the man was heading home to the east and we needed to to west to Gonzalez. As we stood in the parking lot, two young men from Lafayette, in a small truck with a boat on the back, asked if we needed a ride. We piled into the bed of the truck, putting our suitcases and back packs into the boat. They gave us bottles of ice cold water!!

The vehicles going west were few, but the ones coming east were a solid line. The guys in the truck drove really fast, and the boat behind bounced and wiggled. I was sure all our suitcases were going to fly out! About 10 miles out of Gonzalez, we ran out of gas. Everyone piled out, but I stayed in the truck bed, stood up and waved, putting my thumb out in the hitchhiking position. A couple in a big pickup stopped. They gave Nick, Sebastian and I a ride to Nick's parent's house, even though it was a bit off the freeway.

When we pulled up in the driveway, two women came out on the porch. One was saying, "Where have you been? Where's your dad?" Nick explained, while the other one asked if I'd like to take a shower. Oh yes! There were no introductions, just welcome home. I later found out they were Nick's aunt and her sister, who had come there from Slidell to weather out the storm.

Back at the truck, another car had stopped. This was a woman who had filled 5 gallon cans with gas and was driving down the road helping stranded folks like us. We were given her last can of gas, but since she was heading farther west, the black man hitched a ride with her. I hope he made it safely to his daughter's home in Austin. The guys continued to Gonzalez, where Nick saw them at the gas station. Bill paid for their gas and thank them from all of us. I don't know any of their names, but they know who they are. Someday, the good will come back to them.

Walking Out of New Orleans, Part Two

Sebastian was getting tired and hot. He wouldn't drink any more, so I started pouring his share onto his head and body to cool him down. We would take turns carrying him for a while, but he didn't like that. So, we would carry a while, then let him walk a while.

When we came to the area by the projects, the side of the road became more crowded with people. We even saw some firemen setting up a rescue operation with boats. I recognised a couple of them from a delivery I had made for work. Nick knew one of the guys, so talked to him for any updates. He knew less than we did.

There were only 2 times I was concerned for our safety. The first was when I saw 4 guys stealing a car that was parked on the side of the road. As they were getting into the car, on of the guys stared hard at me and flashed a gang sign. I looked away from him and kept walking. They made a uturn and came up behind us, but passed and kept going. I breathed a sigh of relief.

The second time, a man came running toward Sebastian and I, pointing his finger and saying, "You, I know you!" Well, I didn't know him, but I said "ok". He continued, "You live on Clermont. I see you and your dog walking all the time. When did you leave? How high was the water?" My response, "Yes, we live Clermont. We left about midnight last night. And the water was this high at my house." I held out the front of my teeshirt, which was stained from the nasty water almost shoulder high. "I was walking on my tiptoes when I waded out." He looked very depressed then and said, "My house must be under water too. Where are you going?" "Gonsalez." " Well, if anyone can walk that far, it's you. I've seen you walking every day, in all weather. Good luck." "Stay safe, yourself."

For all the nastiness the tv reported. For all the evil deeds that supposedly happened. We only received support, hope and good wishes from people. All everyone wanted was information, and water.

One man called out to us from the side of the road, "Drink of wine, $50!" Nick muttered to me, "If it was ice water, I might take him up on it."

It seemed like we had been walking a lifetime.

We're Walking Out of New Orleans

As we walked, the scope of the flooding became apparent. Everywhere we looked there was water, some areas deeper than others. We came upon more people by the side of the road, including the woman and her parents that are been dropped off at the intersection of I610 and 10 during the night. Lots of folks just sitting and waiting. We walked at a fairly brisk pace. People would call at us from the side of the road, "Where you going? What do you know?" We finally started answering, "Out of here, we don't know anything."

There were some vehicles driving on the road, mostly government types, a few tv vans, an occasional private vehicle, but they all seemed to be going no where.

After walking a while, the 3 young guys changed out of their wet shoes into flip flops, and I changed into sandals. Bill was already in dry shoes. We were stopped by a tv van from ABC in Houston. They had their camera out, so I kept walking. Didn't want to be seen looking like this!!! The four guys stopped and talked. The tv folks were very concerned we were walking in to a bad part of town! They had been warned! After talking to the guys, they let Nick use their satellite phone to call his parents. He told his mom where we were and what our plans were. His dad was going to come to New Orleans to meet us at the bridge and take us out. They also gave us a gallon of water. Thank you to them.

There were dogs on the freeway, some already dying from dehydration. One was a beautiful pomeranian, obviously well loved, running around with a broken leash attached. We tried to get him to come to us, but he would only come so close then run away. I have often wondered what happened to him.

Walking down the freeway, we found ourselves in step, with a certain rhythm. Mike started humming, then said, "What's this song, it's something about walking and New Orleans?" Well, it was "I'm walking to New Orleans." We sang a bit, then changed the words to:

We're walking out of New Orleans.
We're walking out of New Orleans.
Got blisters on our feet,
There's water in the streets,
So, we're walking out of New Orleans.

We're going to Gonzalez.
Cause that is where Nick's house is.
Got blisters on our feet,
There's water in the streets,
So, we're walking out of New Orleans.

As we passed people, they did give us strange looks for singing, but hey, it was a strange day.

Quality Time on Interstate 10

I couldn't sleep. All around, others were having the same problem. Groups of young men kept walking by, coming down the freeway from the west. There were several cars parked on the freeway, closer to St. Bernard Ave., put there by their owners before the storm. Where the owners were now, who knows. As the groups of guys walked by, they would open a car door to see if they could get it started. There was one car, though, that refused to be mishandled. Everytime, the alarm would go off. I could see the car, surrounded by people, because the interior light would come on, then the alarm would go off, then the guys would move on down the road. Then the next group would walk up and try. It was almost comical.

As the night wore on, more people arrived, although this slowed after the recuers pulled their boats from the water and went to a different part of town. One group of 3 came up to friend/family already on the road. They were happy to find each other. Then one of the men, after looking around, said, "Look, there's even white folks up here!" Oh well, this in New Orleans, and I did only see 3 other whites.

Dawn came slowly. I took Sebastian for a short "business" walk, then came back to talk to Bill. The guys were still asleep. More folks were waking up and figuring out how to do simple things, like use the bathroom. No modesty allowed here.

To our surprise, a Police van came driving by. When they saw the crowd, they actually sped up to go around us, even though several of us were up and waving! We knew they would be back though, cause the freeway to the west was closed just beyond St. Bernard. We hadn't talk to the people around us for nothing!

Bill and I were determined to stop the van when it came back. When we saw it coming, we positioned ourselves in the middle of the lane and started waving our arms. Bill was especially agressive about it, walking toward them as they came. Now, my guy is 5'11", and weighs 235. He has a full flowing white beard, and was wearing a brightly colored Hawaiian print shirt. You couldn't miss him unless your eyes were closed! The van just kept coming! Bill kept doing the "stop the van dance". I was screaming at him that they were going to run him over. But, he is a persistant son of a gun, and just kept dancing! Well, the van finally stopped. BUT, I am convinced that if Bill had been black, they would have run over him and kept going!!!!

Bill went to the drivers side, and I took the guy in the passengers seat. We would compare notes later. The guy I talked to was a City of New Orleans police sergeant. White. Bill talked to a NOYPD patrolman. Black. They both said basically the same thing. No busses, no food, no water, no FEMA, no help anywhere. There were tears in the sergeant's eyes as he spoke. We were on our own. So, I asked my guy, How do we get to the Crescent City Connect, the bridge over the Mississippi River to Algiers? He explained how to start walking east, go the wrong way on the entrance ramp to I-10, then walk on the eastbound side of I-10. Once we were there, we would be able to see where to go. He asked where we wanted to go, and I said, "The bridge, then Gonzales." His response was one we would hear repeatedly during the day, "Do you know how far that is?!?" I told him, "Yes, but it doesn't matter. If I'm going to get sunburned, it is going to be getting somewhere, not sitting on my butt in the middle of the freeway." He smiled, and wished me the best.

Others came up and started talking to them, but Bill and I had heard enough. We told the guys what we had learned, then we gathered all our stuff up. The mother of the 3 little boys wanted to know what was going on, so we told her, as others listened. We also told her what we were doing. Her response, "Do you know how far that is?"

We took off walking. 5 people with 4 backpacks, a laptop computer in a case with a short handle, 2 rolling suitcases, and a old miniature schnauzer with heart problems. The 3 guys were in flip flops, while their shoes dried out a bit. All of us in shorts and shirts, dirty and stained from wading out through the toxic gumbo in the New Orleans soup bowl.

Once others realized we were headed out, one of the guys said, really loudly, "Look, the white folks are leaving, we better go too." At first I wasn't sure I had heard him right, but then I looked around at my crew, who were all grinning at the comment, and knew my ears were working just fine.

After a few minutes, I looked back to see a long line of folks following us. Each ladened down with what few of their earthly belongings they were able to haul out of the rising waters. We felt a bit like the Pied Pipers of New Orleans. But unlike the original in Germany, we were not sure where our journey would end.

After the Levees Broke

Bill spent alot of the day trying to raise things out of the water, as well as carrying dryer items upstairs. I cleaned and sorted and even packed a few things up so there would be more room in our storage room. I also sorted through our suitcases, so if we had to leave, we could take out the important papers, jewelry and such, as well as clothing to go on our trip to Europe. The one thing we didn't have were our passports. Bill was convinced they were underwater, locked in the electronic, aka ruined, safe. I was just as convinced they were in the top of the armoire in the office. Fortunately, I was right. Passports at the ready, we could go to France, when we got out of New Orleans.

The news on the radio was still saying the breach would be fixed. The 3 guys developed bad cases of cabin fever, so took one of the sailboats, minus the masts of course, and paddled out into the neighborhood. They decovered it got deeper closer to 610, and was very shallow at the north end of our street, by Gentilly Blvd. But then deepened again on the other side. They checked out the looted stores, avoiding looking like looters themselves. They found many people like ourselves who had stayed. They wore their UNO rugby team teeshirts, so they would look respectable.

It was very hot, no breeze, all humidity. Friends of our neighbors walked over, in the water, from east New Orleans, with their babies on their backs. Yelled over that the water was over the first floor in some areas.

Cell phones still don't work. We cook supper with the last of the natural gas into the kitchen stove. There was still some cold beer, so we drank all of it, since we knew it wouldn't be cool much longer.

Finally got a signal on my cell and called our daughter in Tucson, she wasn't home, so left a message on her machine. We had just heard that the breach would be fixed and the water would go down. So, that's what I told her. We were fine, had food and water. All would be ok. The truth was, the breach was not being fixed, the radio got it wrong. But how were we to know? Amy knew different, though, and was in a panic from watching TV reports, complete with pictures of the flooding.

We played a game to keep our minds occupied. Coldest you have ever been. Hottest you have ever been. Scaredest, funniest, you get the idea. Finally, it was dark, lit some candles, but too hot, so we all went to bed. I kept taking clothing off until I had on nothing but underwear. No air movement. Then about an hour later, we heard a loud motor coming our direction. Bill and I both went to the window, where we could see a boat with a search light turning onto our street. I decided I better get my clothes on, wouldn't want to scare him!

The men in the boat were taking people to the free way, where, they were told, busses would pick us up and take us to a shelter in Gonzalez. Well, since that would get us to Nick's parents house, it sounded good. We had already realized that the water was not going down, but seemed to be coming up a little more all the time. The men said they were full, but would be back to get us in about 30 minutes. We woke the guys to see if they wanted to leave. John and Mike said yes, Nick said he would go along with whatever we wanted to do. No worries. We all started getting ready to leave. Waterbottles in backpacks, I packed Sebastian's food, water and meds in my backpack. We had heard on the radio that some people were being forced to leave their animals. I couldn't leave Sebastian. Bill said I would have to decide what I would do if they didn't let me take him on the boat. I said I'd just put him in the sailboat and paddle after them.

Bill went over to Gaston and Helen's house, yelled until he woke them up to tell them we were leaving. Did they want to come? Gaston was still insisting, NO. So Ray and Helen had to agree. We told them goodbye. Would we ever see them alive again?

We finally all got down stairs. Bill had climbed up into the bed of John's ford f150. The guys carried suitcases and backpacks down to him, which he put on top of the cab to keep dry. I carried Sebastian out, holding him up out of the water and handed him to Bill, who put him on the cab. The water was chest deep, even with me walking on my tip toes. We locked the door, not know when we would be able to return. All of us were in the pickup bed waiting for the boat to come back.

The water in the bed felt and smelled like warm urine. Disgusting. The boat nudged up to the back of the truck. Mike went on first and I started to hand Sebastian to him. The City of New Orleans policeman on the boat said, "You can't bring that dog with you!" I said, "Sir, this dog is as much a member of my family as these 3 young men. I would no sooner leave him here, than I would them." The man who was driving the boat calls up, "M'am, your dog is welcomed on MY boat." I looked at the cop, who said, "Well, you won't be able to take him in the SuperDome!" I looked him straight in the eyes, and said," That's ok, cause I'm not going to the SuperDome, I don't do crowds!" Mike took Sebastian, I got on and took him back with me.

Nick, John and Bill got our stuff and themselves on the boat, and off we went. There were no lights anywhere. Trees, electric lines, broken poles, we managed to avoid all of them. We made it to Elysian Fields where we turned left to go to the freeway. The water was much deeper here. The boats owner was a fireman from Praireville, LA. He had come into town to help where needed. Total volunteer, boat, gas, time. I thanked him for letting Sebastian come. He smiled and said "You're welcomed. I have dogs too."

The boat took us to the one ramp of I610 East. We got off, the policeman was much more civil this time. We walked up the ramp to join the other rescued folks, probably 200 in all. It was odd looking off the freeway. There were fires burning, from leaking natural gas lines, we could see the flare. Convoys of police cars kept running up I10 with all their lights on. They didn't seem to be doing anything just going back and forth.

We dried off, seemed odd that we went from burning hot, to chilly. A young mother of 3 little boys was close by. She offered us some candy, since we seemed to be in a daze. We declined, but thanked her, telling her to save it for her boys. Our guys all laid down to sleep. After a while, Bill did too. A police car drove up and stopped. I went over to listen. A woman asked when buses were coming. He said "Well, if you had left when you were told this wouldn't have happened." I felt like slugging him! She very calmly explained that her elderly, ill, parents were there. He said he didn't know what to do, but he finally put them in the car with him. I don't know where they went, probably the SuperDome.

People kept walking by on the freeway. One group came up to some of their friends, looked around and said, "Look, there are even white folks here!" I didn't sleep at all. There were groups of young men who would walk by and check all of us out. As they came by parked cars, they would try to break into them, or start them. Didn't work but one of the car's alarm kept going off.

Stars! We could see stars! They were beautiful, but really brought home our dark the city was.

What a story, now I can tell people I've spent the night in the middle of an interstate highway!

Hurricane Katrina

The storm was noisy and wet, but not as bad as I had imagined. Bill, in his foul weather sailing gear and bicycle helmet, periodically went outside to check on drains, roofing, and damage. We watched our metal window awning blow away from different sides of the house as the storm gradually changed directions in passing. We saw our neighbor's awning over his boat, detach from the house and disappear on the wind. At one point, a section of shingles on the garage started to blow up from the edge. Bill and John took a ladder, a piece of board, hammer and nails and attached those shingles down. (The board is still on the roof holding the shingles in place!)

When the storm had moved until it was blowing out of the East, we seemed to have survived in good shape. The wind was slowing down, the rain was easing, we all started to relax. The 3 guys were napping on the livingroom floor, since we made them move downstairs when the radio warned of tornados. Bill kept going out to check on things. I sat on my bed and read a book. That's when I noticed a lot of water in the back yard. About the same time, Bill came in saying water was rising and we needed to pick up the rugs in case it got into the house. I woke the guys and we started moving rugs. But the water kept coming. Soon it was running under the doors. We realized we needed to move things upstairs, as the water didn't appear to be slowing down. We grabbed the laundry baskets and loaded them with water, food, meds. Bill opened our safe and took the papers out. I realized that our miniature Schnauzer, Sebastian, would soon be treading water, so I picked him up and handed him to John, who ran him upstairs.

And the water kept coming.

The level of disbelief, frustration, and pain, as I saw my home, furniture, antiques, and treasures engulfed in swirling dirty water is indescribable.

I never realized how many things float. Within 15 minutes, the water was over 3 feet. Tables, the buffet, trunks we had put up on chairs to keep dry, even the refrigerator, which I couldn't move at all, floated.

Bill and I had packed our suitcases for a trip to France in early September, so they were hauled upstairs. I finally went upstairs too, with Mike. He would meet the others midway on the stairs, then hand the items on up to me. I had cleared space in a bedroom, so we wouldn't be blocked in. Bill, John, and Nick worked for several hours moving anything that was above water to Mike and I, to put upstairs. Wading in near chest high water, holding baskets over their heads, trying not to trip and fall. The house filled with floating debris: the antique bookcases came unglued, doors and shelves floating, needing to be pushed out of the way as the 3 worked to save what they could.

Bill had an encounter with floating ants, getting 25+ bites on his chest alone. But still he waded on. A picture here, clothing there, shoes, photos, baskets. They took most things off the walls, in the rooms they could get around in. In the bedrooms, they could get in the door, but not to the far side of the beds, due to floating and overturned furniture. There was always the risk of injury, and in this water it would turn septic quickly.

Upstairs, Mike and I dried the damp things, hung wet clothing in the shower stall, and filled up the rooms and hall. All the food was moved from downstairs. Water bottles were in a basket in the kitchen. All this seemed to only take a few minutes, when in reality we worked for hours. We finally all came upstairs, dried off, and put on dry clothing. We stopped to look out the windows at the new lake around us. The water was over the top of Nick's car, over the bed of John's F-150 pickup, just a few inches from the top of my Town and Country van. We knew our little BMW Z3 coupe was drowned in the garage. The water seemed to be staying at this level, but moving very rapidly down the street, from Lake Pontchatrain to the Mississippi River.

If we looked closely, we could see fish swimming by. Nick suggested we throw a line in the water and catch our supper. But then he thought about all the horrible things that were now in the water, and changed his mind.

We talked through the windows to our next door neighbors, Gaston and Helen, who had stayed as well. Their oldest son, Ray, was with them. Ray works for Jefferson Parish, running the big pumps. He seemed to think, once they got the pumps running good, the whole place would drain in a couple of days. Of course, we didn't know about the holes in the 17th street canal, the London Ave canal (where our water was coming from), and the Industrial Canal. We did know that if we had this much water, being above sea level, then there were places in a lot worse condition than we were.

Helen laughingly reminded us that she had said this one would bring water. She just didn't think we would have lake front property! What a couple, both 80; Gaston with Alzheimer's and Helen with a bad heart. Both native New Orleanians. Gaston wouldn't leave, Helen wouldn't leave with out Gaston, so now they were wading in water. But they both smiled.

We cooked supper on our little gas backpacking stove. Drank some of the still cold beer. Sat around trying to get our cell phones to work. There were 5 cell phones, none would get a signal. The guys sent text messages. I saved my battery. We had a radio, but it would only get one station, which was mostly useless. Folks passing on rumors. The head of Emergency Management for Jefferson Parish, who kept repeating, "It is the end of the world as we know it!", until finally, they wouldn't let him have the microphone anymore. There were helicopters from the Coast Guard flying over, most of the afternoon and evening. We discovered more of our neighbors who had stayed too. We also heard all the dogs and cats howling and crying. It broke our hearts. We kept our Sebastian close in his bed.

I put a mattress on the floor in the livingroom, Bill slept in the lounge chair, and the guys in their rooms, with Mike on the sofa in the den. We slept, then awakened, peering out the window at the water, keeping check on the level. The helicopters flew most of the night, coming close with spot lights shining. We know now they were getting people off of roofs. We were safe for the moment.

There's a Hurricane a Comin'

Friends and family have encouraged me to write about our experiences since Katrina came to visit. It has been most of a year, and I think I can finally start.
We chose to stay in New Orleans for the storm. When we had everything ready and could leave if we wanted to, the roads were in a gridlock. Nick, our tenant, had tried to leave, but the powers that be would not let him go West, only North. Of course, his parents lived west, so he came back to the house. We all decided our brick house would be safer than stuck in our cars on the freeway. We moved ropes, life jackets, and a hatchet upstairs, in case it flooded. But our home was 6 feet above sea level, so we weren't really worried.
A friend of Nick and John, Mike, showed up before supper. He wanted to stay at our place, since his father had gotten up in the middle of the night and left him. Of course he was welcomed.
We rotissiered a chicken and had a great meal with a nice bottle of wine. The guys went upstairs to their apartment and watch "WaterWorld". Such a sense of humor.
Phone calls from family in California saying we should leave, but not us! The rain started about 8pm Sunday evening. A bit after midnight the wind began to blow. At 5am all the transformers in the neighborhood blew up, one after the other, and we were without electicity.
The noise of the wind was tremendous, but I had been in wind this strong before, when we lived in Boulder, CO and had shanook wind from the north. The rain was another thing. It was coming sideways in sheets. I put towels in the window seals as it was blowing under them! I raised all the blinds and pulled the curtains up to the side, so they wouldn't get wet. This was a wise move for later on, too. Little did we know the meaning of WET.