MEGADOOM's KATRINA DIARY ***Sneak preview of doom***

[max_power]

First of all Fishsurfer, you cannot have been everywhere and done everything you claim to. You are always claiming to have done all of this stuff, which is obviously fabricated.

second you are always contradicting yourself. Your classic style is to criticise the empire, in order to not alienate people that are aware of objective reality, then you turn around after that and try to sway public opinion back to faith in the empire and its false reality/history.

as for this particular thread, of course there are communities that will fair better than others and there were communities that were hit by katrina that did just that. It remains to be seen how long these communities can keep it up when TSHTF longer than a few weeks. Now there is no way any  zombie filled large cities of the  U.S. are not going to end up exactly like urban new orleans during katrina when the SHTF. They will ALL be completely dysfunctional.

[msegk]

Megadoom, any chance you'll resume adding to your Katrina diary or must we wait for the book to come out? 

[Megadoom]

Megadoom, any chance you'll resume adding to your Katrina diary or must we wait for the book to come out? 

I know, I know, I'm bugging the hell out of my friend for the Pearlington pics. I'll post what I have tomorrow evening (pic and further journaling)

[msegk]

No pressure!  Not Much Pressure!    I guess it's because of the season, I can't get your diary outta my mind.

[Russ]

No pressure!  Not Much Pressure!    I guess it's because of the season, I can't get your diary outta my mind.

Yeah, it's compelling. I just check back every few days to see if there's a new installment.

Megadoom, do you know if any larger audience has come here to read this, beyond the normal LATOC community?

[Grower]

Russ -- click the "notify" button below.

[Megadoom]

               Debris and trash lay strewn on the expressway heading through Westwego, a community to the South and West of New Orleans while plums of smoke billowed from unchecked fires across the river. The fire fighters would be busy again. Bryan, somewhat lifted in spirits at the prospects of escaping this madness, quipped humorously "man, the traffic is light today." I laughed heartedly while releasing some of the built up tension. Surprisingly we didn't see a single cop or military vehicle in the long drive through the Westbank on our way to Laplace. We diverted to the south and west of the Huey to avoid road blocks and passed a long line of utility work crews, military trucks, and other humanitarian supply convoys waiting for authorization to proceed. "What the hell were they waiting for," I thought. Their route to the city was wide open and clear yet nothing, nothing for days. I merely frowned and pressed on eager to get to my wife and check on my friend and pets. Nervously, I eyed my fuel gauge which was at 1/2 tank, and my big titan truck didn't exactly get Honda accord mileage. When would I be able to get fuel? Bryan needed to be dropped off in Baton Rouge but there were two questions I was asking myself: 1) Did I have enough fuel to make there, and 2) would there be fuel available in Baton Rouge? There was no point in worrying about it, our destiny committed, we avoided thinking about sitting on the side of the road. Bryan and I didn't say much as wind beaten swamp scenery whizzed by us at 75 mph, and I felt lonely, disconnected, and lost in the twilight zone.
   We made it and in just the nick of time as the red light began flashing on the fuel gauge. Power was still out in parts of Baton Rouge but a few fuel stations remained open running on generators; however, there were long lines of vehicles waiting for the opportunity to fuel. The scene was something out of the 70's oil crisis.

I got in line turning off the motor to conserve what I had left in the tank. Bryan looked pale and sick leaning out the door to gag, days of being in the heat, the anxiety, and god knows what else were taking their toll, and my friend began to vomit our morning meal. Bryan's cell phone was working, finally, and he called his family to come pick him up. I used his cell phone as well to call my wife telling her I had made it to Baton Rouge and was heading up to get her once I fueled. My nerves still edgy from being through what seemed an apocalypse, I was expecting at any minute that my world would burn, flood, and turn into what I had left.
   All fueled up I began the long drive North to Arkansas, my wife 6 hrs away, I had plenty of time to think about all that had happened to me in the last week. By Alexandria I was involuntarily shaking from a weeks worth of adrenaline overload, and I couldn't help but stop at the city to get a drink. Walking into the Wendy's it felt odd starring at the menu, the cornucopia of plenty, and everything so calm. The person taking the order seemed oblivious to the disaster, oh sure she knew about it from news reports and such, but it was like someone hearing about a earthquake in China - not their problem. I sat down with my meal, that was "now" easy to procure, and consumed it as though I needed to get back into battle quickly. Still feeling shaky and nervous I stopped at the big Wally world to buy a knife, don't really know why, it just made me feel better.
   The weather took a turn for the worse as I headed into Arkansas, heavy bands of rain sheeted the windshield, and I found it difficult to get anywhere quickly. I was so tired too. I pulled up to Uncle's just after nightfall, the front past and now cool outside, as I saw my wife coming running out to meet me. She was crying and elated.  I think that hug lasted forever.... Would things now get back to normal, I thought?
   After a long night retelling my saga of survival, and hearing that my brother-in-law's father had waded out Chalmette to safety, that everyone's houses (except my mother-in-law's) had flooded, we - my wife and I, pondered what the next step would be. We were both thinking it was time to get back down there and rescue our dogs, that was priority uno, but getting into Pearlington might be a problem - no gas. Gas shortages and empty unworking gas stations meant we had to bring in enough fuel to get there, kinda like a astronaut or a deep sea scuba diver requiring oxygen or some other life support to get in and get out. The stores, even as far north as Arkansas, were completely out of stock and stripped of fuel containers, but my uncle-in-law asked some of his neighbors for their's and they were eager to help us out. Really, Arkansas, Texas, and Alabama were very welcoming to Katrina refugee's, and in our case we were immensely thankful.

   We started early, just before dawn, and stopped at the first gas station to fuel up and all our containers - 4 five gallon jugs. On the way down I stopped often to fuel the truck, getting it where I could, and for as long as it was possible. Baton Rouge would be our last opportunity. Everything was dead and without power from the capital across the northshore of Lake Pontchartrain encompassing St. Tammany, Tangipahoa, and Livingston parishes. No food or water either except in otherwise unknown pockets of Aid.

The signs of wind damage grew ever more significant and destructive as we drove East towards the MS state line. Giant stands of young pine swooned in vast acreages, like a giant crop circle, and made by wind. The larger tree's uprooted or snapped in half with pockets of extreme destruction, sometimes 100 year old pines splinterred and shoved inside live oak tree's like a wooden stake for the undead. I could hardly recognize what was formally familiar and revered.
    Passing the state line we saw the truck stop shredded and parts of the weigh office in the middle of the interstate, a welcome sign twisted and bent lying in a stand of tree's, and a flock of buzzards tearing at a bloated cow. Like the scene out of "Twister," we deafly weaved in and out of the debris field searching for our exit. A checkpoint had been setup by the National Guard upon turning down hwy 604 towards Pearlington. They had to check our IDs to verify we were Pearlington residents, and then they thankfully waved us through. We really didn't know what to expect, only hearing sketchy reports from a love one that lived in Pearlington saying all was destroyed, and it certainly wasn't mentioned on the mainstream news despite Pearlington being the official landfall for hurricane Katrina in MS. Our town was just too small, only 12,000 residents, which to me didn't seem so tiny. I mean, I've passed through towns out west where the population sign said 84 or 125 which is certainly alot less than 12,000.
   Preparing our mind and hearts for what we were about to see we steely pressed onward eager to rescue our pets and see what was left. Now for those who are familiar with back water MS, hwy 604 was nothing but pulp wood pine tree's for miles and miles where large oaks tunneled the roadway, a long logging road heading south towards hwy 90. Other than tree damage, there was little indication that all had been destroyed in our little hamlet a few miles ahead, course then, we came around the last bend and saw total devastation. Bulldozer's had recently been employed to clear the highway so guardsmen and people could get in and help out. Trailers, homes, and all manner of debris was strewn about, like a atom bomb had been dropped, with debris hanging high out of tree's and cars upside down and bent around them from the force of the water. Our church, St. Joseph's, where I had had my mother's funeral, was gone, only the foundation and a broken Madonna adorned the concrete steps. Whole houses had collapsed in on themselves, dead pets lay bloated in the streets, and a blanket of mud was everywhere. The colors weren't right, the smells foreign, and all was confusing and lost. It was hard to tell where we were even. APC's and navy seals were at various checkpoints, like something out Baghdad. Special forces were going from house to house looking for survivors and then spraying a big bright orange X listing what they had found inside, like bodies, pets, and hazards. Turning onto hwy 90 we already knew that our house was surely lost, and most likely our pets gone too, there was just too much damage all around us to believe otherwise.

(St. Joseph's church...or where it used to be)

(Pearlington post office....or where it used to be)






   My wife and I gripped each others hands tightly as we made our last turn towards the house...........there it was still, a huge pine tree had fallen right through the middle of it but it was still there. Our home was about the only one left in Pearlington left that still looked like a house as it was constructed out of cinder blocks. Our hopes lifted as we pulled up into the drive, but then as we stepped out I could see the cracked and baked mud everywhere and the dusty mud line up on my roof. I realized then that the house, quite literally, had gone completely underwater. It's really hard to describe the feeling of death that lingered in the air. Outside there wasn't a bit of noise, no breeze, no insects, no birds, no nothing....it was dead quiet and very unsettling. It smelled like mildew and pine sap.
   My heart jumped a little as I caught a glimpse of Charlie moving towards us too weak to even bark but enough to wag his tail with hope, and then too, we saw Theresa come out of the house towards us....both alive. They may have been alive but both were profoundly emaciated and dehydrated. I didn't waste time in looking more at the house but rather snatched them up into my arms and brought them to the truck for water and food. They didn't seem to want to stay at house anymore and were very happy to lap fresh water and fill their bellies. My wife's eyes were tearing up as she looked around at things. I headed for the front door but the debris and foulness blocked our way into the kitchen, so I went around to the old front door behind the giant pine tree canopy that was draped over the house to find that the door had been blown open by either the wind or the water. Inside....everything was destroyed and a most god awful smell came forth, some of it from the frigerator and some from all the rotting fish that had been swept-ed in from the Gulf. I immediately started calling for our cats, "here kitty, kitty," on and on but as I stood in my living room I forensically examined the devastation and realized the house had gone under water completely and there was no way my cats would be alive. I found the black cat and her bloated carcass up on the kitchen table, where I'm sure she fought her last fight clawing the table top as it floated up to the ceiling. I only hoped that she died from running out air in a ceiling pocket rather than simply drowned, and all of it in the dark. Cursing myself for leaving them I couldn't help but cry myself with my wife hugging me in a sympathetic embrace.




   Choking back the tears, I rushed to the bedroom to go for my photo's and mom's ashes, but found the door buckled and was unable to open due to the mattress that was now water logged and pressed against the door. My library of books swollen, now filled the empty spaces, in all manner of means. My family's paintings, most ruined completely, were one of a kind and I struggled to pull them free from the muck. Carelessly, and I would regret it a few days later, I did all of it without gloves as I put my hands into the rotten food that had spilled out of the frig to grab a 85 year old painting. We had to stumble over the debris at the back of the house to climb through the bedroom window in search of my pictures. I had to get them as quickly as possible as I hoped they were half way protected in their booklets. What I was looking for was in a giant cedar chest which was now covered by all manner of household paraphernalia.

[shankland_the_dog]

Thank GOD two of the animals were alive! Sorry about your cat though.

I grew up on a farm and my only friends when I was a kid were my animals, so this has been gnawing at me for months since you first posted.

[graveday]

I know you work long hours, and grueling ones, but now I see the source of the weariness in your face.  I have been dreading your return home because I was sure your animals would be dead.  That both dogs survived is miraculous.  That you survived what happened to your home and possessions is also.  My extreme Megasympathies to you and your wife.

[Tropicalgirl]

Thanks MD, how hard this must be, reliving the trip home and finding the devastation.  I agree with Grave, I was dreading the story of your animals, so the 2 dogs made it through, so sorry about your other pets.

I can so relate to your driving home, your story reminded me of the night I drove back to Florida alone, after Frances... as we had just moved to Florida a couple of months before, and a Cat 3 hurricane came ashore, right over our new home.  I arrived in the area about midnight, the closer I got to Jensen Beach/Stuart, the more damage was visible.  There was intermittent power, but trees, building and billboards were damaged.  And I was fine until 10 miles from home, then I started shaking so hard it was hard to drive.  As I came into our little town and saw damage everywhere, it was discouraging.... then I had to get through National Guard security checkpoint, those guys told me our road was washed out in places, but there was a way into the neighborhood.  As I drove up, I saw the house was still standing, thank god.  There was roof damage but the house withstood the storm, it is a poured cement and cinderblock house.  It took a year to get it fixed, and we've had 2 more hurricanes since.  All I can say now is "what was I thinking" - its very tough to live in the hurricane zone during the season.  The rest of the year, its great, but, there are many days when I regret selling our place in TN. 

Again, thank you for sharing the story.  Are you still planning to sell your house once you finish your schooling?

[Megadoom]

Again, thank you for sharing the story.  Are you still planning to sell your house once you finish your schooling?

Yep. 75,000 with 1 acre, anyone interested? 

[Tropicalgirl]

MD, I forgot to say thanks for posting the photos too.  They really tell the story... can't believe your house was so devastated, I am so sorry for what you all had to go through.

[rdocr]

Meggadoom-

You have made a real, significant contribution to all of us. Thank You so much.

Now you understand why I have written seven books on Disaster Preparedness. My drive was far different from your experience, but no less of a lasting impression on me.
On the West Coast, in Southern California, the big disaster is earthquakes, and there is no warning or even time to realize that something is happening.
   In the ten seconds I was fighting my way out of a shower, 25,000 buildings in San Fernando Valley were destroyed, in 1970. The freeway interchange in the valley looked like a plate of spaghetti.

   I can still work up a sweat when I think of all the people down there who have no idea of what to do. We moved away 20 years ago, in time to miss another one in the same valley and a real shake in the SF Bay area.

   In San Fernando valley, only about 20% of the people even carry earthquake insurance.

   The gas line pictures could well have been taken during the fist Peak Oil crash. That brought back another set of memories, but those gas lines were a test of everybody’s patience.

A wealth guy I knew bought a new set of first-class tires for his Mercedes, even though he didn’t need new tires. By doing this, he became a “valued” customer- they got advance notice of when the gas pumps would open to pump the day’s ration of gas.
Another rich guy bought a semi-tanker full of gas and parked it on his estate, so his servants could get to work on time.

But an earthquake or hurricane doesn’t play favorites, except when it comes to recovery. Money talks.

Thanks, again

Ralph

[graveday]

Ralph, I'll bet most of the few with earthquake insurance still have brick chimneys next to their houses.  Insurance is a good idea, but taking down the chimney is a better one.  Hard to care about insurance when you're dead.
And we will wonder again who put the line in gasoline.

[Athina]

Megadoom, I was also waiting to hear the fate of your animals. So glad to hear the dogs made it, sorry the kitty died.
The devastation of your home must have been a terrible thing to experience.  Those pictures are unreal.

Thanks for sharing your story with us.
Have you decided on a specialization in your Nursing studies?
Athina