The Trip

2:30pm

I'm sitting at the airport waiting to board a flight to Atlanta, wondering, "What the h*ll are we doing here?"

Since my last post yesterday, Bush (i.e., President) has declared a state of emergency in Louisiana; this is a standard declaration for situations like this. The city's government offices will close today. The Post Office announced that they will stop delivering mail soon, but they didn't say when. Three thousand National Guardsmen have been deployed to the New Orleans area, with another 1500 expected. The SPCA ("animal shelter") has evacuated animals, for which I am so glad. Most significant for us, was the announcement that the airport, which I now occupy, may close tomorrow night.

The projections continue to put Gustav somewhere along the coast of Louisiana. Residents are starting to evacuate New Orleans. A friend of ours reported that traffic heading west along I-10 out of New Orleans was congested. The airport is west of New Orleans, so we had to take a back road to get here.

Again, our original plans for the weekend included flying out of New Orleans today, watching the football game tomorrow, and flying back to New Orleans on Sunday. Upon learning of the possible closure of the airport tomorrow, we're discussing alternate plans. There was some disagreement between Steve and I as we discussed the various options, but in the end we decided to proceed with our flight to Atlanta. We will continue to monitor the situation in the Caribbean and then decide if we need to fly back tomorrow, a day early. We're looking at this excursion as a one-day getaway to Atlanta, a night-out before we have to take become serious. So, the game has taken a backseat to other more pressing issues.

This morning I packed a bag for this trip. I decided not to gather things, as I had originally planned, which I would need for evacuation. It's a little depressing, packing to leave our house, knowing that there's a possibility, as minute as it may be, that the city may be different when I return. Instead, I made a list of things I wanted to take so when we got back. I would use the list to pack. Surprisingly, my list was short. I check it a few times, making sure I didn't forget anything. It included only the most essential items that I, and the dogs, would need during our exile. Three years ago as I waited for the post-Katrina situation to improve, I regretted not evacuating with a whole list of things, objects, which in retrospect, I would never really need. This regret led to unnecessary anxiety. I suppose that's why the list I made seemed so short; it included only the necessities.

As we drove away from the house (on our way to the airport), I couldn't keep a certain thought from entering my mind: 'Will I ever see this house again?' A trite thought? An overused expression? Of course. Still, it was a legitimate question, especially given the history of New Orleans and one particular storm. I've long ago learned that to live in New Orleans, you have to accept these uncertainties.

~ Later, on the plane ~

I'm now sitting on the plane and we're halfway to Atlanta. We have no idea what to expect tomorrow. Steve and I are are still trying to decide whether or not we made the right decision by leaving New Orleans.

11:00pm

We're in Atlanta. We're at the hotel in a part of town called Buckhead. We finished a wonderful meal with Steve's cousin, who lives in a cubicle, and who has hinted at having the ability to make a certain Asian-inspired sauce. We also had the pleasure of dining with his girlfriend, who is from a small town in Iowa and who wanted the world to know that she was conceived in the seventies. The meal was at a Thai restaurant called Nan. It was very good.

The latest five day projection shows Gutav still aimed at the central Louisiana coast, but the computer models are starting to show a shift to the west, which for us, is good news.

We're still trying to find a way to go to the game tomorrow night. The one and only problem is the possibility of not being able to get back home once they close the airport. We just don't know when that will happen. To keep our minds off that thought, we went to the hotel lounge. There was a hoard of people decked out in Crimson and White (Alabama fans) and Orange (Clemson fans). A band played mostly jazz, but at one point they started playing Hold That Tiger (not sure if this is the title of the song) for the Tiger fans and Sweet Home Alabama for the Crimson Tide fans. I almost blurted out, "Roll Tide Roll" while pumping my fist, up in the air, along with the beat. Like I said, I almost did it, but I restrained myself and I took another sip of my Cape Cod trying to suppress a smile. Steve, however, sat quietly in his chair, sedate. Sometimes I wonder why I, who supports Notre Dame primarily, show more spirit for Alabama football than he, a native of the state, does.

As we head to bed, I feel pretty good about the storm. With all the hubbub, I almost forgot that today is the third anniversary of Katrina. In New Orleans, they buried the last of the unidentified bodies found in Katrina's wake. On this day, three years later, Steve and I find ourselves in a similar situation and confronting similar questions. I can't say that life is boring.