Waiting for Rita

We’re in Houston waiting for the storm. Before Wednesday night’s performance, which we did before 248 people (the theater holds 2800), our company manager announced that we would be moving by bus to Oklahoma City. OKC is 495 miles from Houston but the closest place she could find housing for the group. Some of us decided, instead, to go to family here in Texas. The plans have been changed.

I left at 11pm in my truck Wednesday night, with supplies and a full tank of gas. My plan was to drive at night and miss the worst of the evacuation traffic. I guess everyone else had the same intention. The gridlock was unimaginable! My route was to drive from downtown Houston to Loop 610 and then Highway 290 which heads to Austin. I got off 290 at FM 529. I made it 45 miles in 15.5 hours.

For hour after hour, I couldn’t change lanes...hour after hour of traveling only a few feet at a time; I couldn’t get off of Highway 290. I saw the same sign for the Sam Houston Tollway, 2 miles away, for four hours. People were getting out of their cars and walking. The walkers were making much better progress than the drivers. I would estimate that 80% of the folks around me were Hispanic families and groups of young Hispanic men. All of us had the same look of weary resignation. By looking at each person's vehicle and belongings, you could tell their priorities....family and pets....loved ones....as it should be.

I spoke with my loved ones once it became day-light. My friend Casey called me at 6am; I had accomplished 20 miles in seven hours at that point. Because of 92-year old Helen’s health, Casey determined that her group would have to ride out the storm in her home. Helen’s needs couldn’t be met when you had gridlock, no bathroom facilities or the ability to exit the freeway without fighting your way out. The lack of facilities became a problem for me, as the only person in my truck. I’m embarrassed to say, I made do with double plastic grocery bags. I had to pee somewhere. ( Could an emergency evacuation plan please include port-a-potties along the routes?)

As yesterday progressed, the temperatures soared, topping out at 101 degrees. I had to turn off my vehicle’s air-conditioner, as did many others. (I was very aware many folks around me didn’t have it in the first place, hence the walking.) Because the pace was so slow, my truck gave the first signs of overheating. Once I got below half a tank of gas, the question became would I make it close enough to Brenham or Bellville where my brother could assist me if I ran out. There was none available anywhere in Houston, other than diesel. My goal was to get home, to take care of my parents' house and our dog Dixie. The gas and heat defeated me, but not before a determined attempt .

( Riding Out the Storm  )

Waiting for Rita

We’re in Houston waiting for the storm. Before Wednesday night’s performance, which we did before 248 people (the theater holds 2800), our company manager announced that we would be moving by bus to Oklahoma City. OKC is 495 miles from Houston but the closest place she could find housing for the group. Some of us decided, instead, to go to family here in Texas. The plans have been changed.

I left at 11pm in my truck Wednesday night, with supplies and a full tank of gas. My plan was to drive at night and miss the worst of the evacuation traffic. I guess everyone else had the same intention. The gridlock was unimaginable! My route was to drive from downtown Houston to Loop 610 and then Highway 290 which heads to Austin. I got off 290 at FM 529. I made it 45 miles in 15.5 hours.

For hour after hour, I couldn’t change lanes...hour after hour of traveling only a few feet at a time; I couldn’t get off of Highway 290. I saw the same sign for the Sam Houston Tollway, 2 miles away, for four hours. People were getting out of their cars and walking. The walkers were making much better progress than the drivers. I would estimate that 80% of the folks around me were Hispanic families and groups of young Hispanic men. All of us had the same look of weary resignation. By looking at each person's vehicle and belongings, you could tell their priorities....family and pets....loved ones....as it should be.

I spoke with my loved ones once it became day-light. My friend Casey called me at 6am; I had accomplished 20 miles in seven hours at that point. Because of 92-year old Helen’s health, Casey determined that her group would have to ride out the storm in her home. Helen’s needs couldn’t be met when you had gridlock, no bathroom facilities or the ability to exit the freeway without fighting your way out. The lack of facilities became a problem for me, as the only person in my truck. I’m embarrassed to say, I made do with double plastic grocery bags. I had to pee somewhere. ( Could an emergency evacuation plan please include port-a-potties along the routes?)

As yesterday progressed, the temperatures soared, topping out at 101 degrees. I had to turn off my vehicle’s air-conditioner, as did many others. (I was very aware many folks around me didn’t have it in the first place, hence the walking.) Because the pace was so slow, my truck gave the first signs of overheating. Once I got below half a tank of gas, the question became would I make it close enough to Brenham or Bellville where my brother could assist me if I ran out. There was none available anywhere in Houston, other than diesel. My goal was to get home, to take care of my parents' house and our dog Dixie. The gas and heat defeated me, but not before a determined attempt .

( Riding Out the Storm  )

Sheltering in Place

Local Houston media are using the phrase “sheltering in place” to describe people who are riding the hurricane out, no matter the reason, in their own homes. Suggestions followed as to how to prepare for such an emergency situation. The phrase, newly-minted, I suspect applies as good as any to those of us in The Doubletree Hotel.

At 4pm today, we met near the second floor Ballroom where we will be evacuated later this evening. Our group’s hotel contact, Raymond, gave us specific instructions, laying out what will happen on the hotel’s part to assure everyone’s safety.

The hotel has 350 rooms. Every room has at least three people in it, other than the single rooms our group is occupying. 850-1000 people will be housed in the main ballroom; the overflow will be put up in a neighboring ballroom. A separate meeting on the first floor will be available to those guests with pets. If they have carriers, the pets can be in the meeting room and their owners in the Ballroom or guests with pets can stay with their animals.

Evacuation of the rooms will begin between 11pm and midnight, about five hours before the storm is to hit with its full force. Security will evacuate each floor in orderly fashion beginning with the 20th down to Floor 4. Elevators will only be in use for the disabled, elderly or anyone with special needs. The remainder of us will take the stairs. I’m on the 9th Floor. Room 911 as a matter of fact. An apt number, I guess, for an emergency. We were reminded to put everything in the bathroom and to make sure both layers of draperies are closed at all times.

The ballrooms will be stocked with food and water, pillows, blankets; there will be lights and television (as long as it’s available). We’ve been told to bring down only essential items...that does not include computers, according to Raymond, though I suspect some of our group will ignore that directive.

People have been shaken by the bus accident up near Dallas which killed the residents of a Bellaire nursing home. Oxygen tanks exploded. It is tragic.. the residents thought they were being taken to safety, but instead were struck down by the very element that previously sustained their lives. I’m not going to dwell on it, but I grieve for their families.

Elaine, Mary and I were restless this morning, so took a walk around the city. I’ve taken photos of my home town, a city I’ve never really looked at closely. After all, I live here. I take it for granted. I wonder if these will be “before” photos or just photos of a time and place where we performed “Evita”.

As we walked near Buffalo Bayou, we encountered a homeless man. He had several black garbage bags full of his “worldly possessions”. Elaine approached him and asked if he needed our help in contacting authorities, so he could get out of the way of the storm. He replied gruffly, “Lady, storms carry away property, not people” and turned away to complete his task, sweeping the sidewalk, the floors of his home.

After we said goodbye to the man, we rounded the bend and were able to flag down a police car. Elaine told them of the encounter. The police told her, there’s nothing we can do. The City of Houston is under a voluntary evacuation order, not mandatory. The guy’s lived there under the bridge for years; if he tells us it’s his home (and doesn't want to leave), then we honor it.

Next to the homeless man’s garbage bags was a Red Cross Emergency Kit. We weren’t the first to offer help.

Clergy from several of the poorer areas of town, the wards, have visited city authorities and asked what to do about getting parishioners to safety. They were told to have them call 311 for assistance. The clergy retorted that not all people have telephones or televisions. They want to take answers back to the neighborhoods.... They want answers now.... I hope their passion and insistence will do the trick, so that the sins of Katrina aren’t repeated.

I’m closing by reiterating how much everyone’s words of support and affection, their prayers, mean to me as I face the next couple of days. If the roles were reversed, be assured I’d do my best to be present to you. I may not be able to post after today through the weekend. Only time, and Rita, will tell, but I’ll get word out somehow on how I’m doing. There are friends on Live Journal who have my cell, my parents’ home number and the hotel number here. I know I can count on you to spread the word further as I “shelter in place” in Houston.

Sheltering in Place

Local Houston media are using the phrase “sheltering in place” to describe people who are riding the hurricane out, no matter the reason, in their own homes. Suggestions followed as to how to prepare for such an emergency situation. The phrase, newly-minted, I suspect applies as good as any to those of us in The Doubletree Hotel.

At 4pm today, we met near the second floor Ballroom where we will be evacuated later this evening. Our group’s hotel contact, Raymond, gave us specific instructions, laying out what will happen on the hotel’s part to assure everyone’s safety.

The hotel has 350 rooms. Every room has at least three people in it, other than the single rooms our group is occupying. 850-1000 people will be housed in the main ballroom; the overflow will be put up in a neighboring ballroom. A separate meeting on the first floor will be available to those guests with pets. If they have carriers, the pets can be in the meeting room and their owners in the Ballroom or guests with pets can stay with their animals.

Evacuation of the rooms will begin between 11pm and midnight, about five hours before the storm is to hit with its full force. Security will evacuate each floor in orderly fashion beginning with the 20th down to Floor 4. Elevators will only be in use for the disabled, elderly or anyone with special needs. The remainder of us will take the stairs. I’m on the 9th Floor. Room 911 as a matter of fact. An apt number, I guess, for an emergency. We were reminded to put everything in the bathroom and to make sure both layers of draperies are closed at all times.

The ballrooms will be stocked with food and water, pillows, blankets; there will be lights and television (as long as it’s available). We’ve been told to bring down only essential items...that does not include computers, according to Raymond, though I suspect some of our group will ignore that directive.

People have been shaken by the bus accident up near Dallas which killed the residents of a Bellaire nursing home. Oxygen tanks exploded. It is tragic.. the residents thought they were being taken to safety, but instead were struck down by the very element that previously sustained their lives. I’m not going to dwell on it, but I grieve for their families.

Elaine, Mary and I were restless this morning, so took a walk around the city. I’ve taken photos of my home town, a city I’ve never really looked at closely. After all, I live here. I take it for granted. I wonder if these will be “before” photos or just photos of a time and place where we performed “Evita”.

As we walked near Buffalo Bayou, we encountered a homeless man. He had several black garbage bags full of his “worldly possessions”. Elaine approached him and asked if he needed our help in contacting authorities, so he could get out of the way of the storm. He replied gruffly, “Lady, storms carry away property, not people” and turned away to complete his task, sweeping the sidewalk, the floors of his home.

After we said goodbye to the man, we rounded the bend and were able to flag down a police car. Elaine told them of the encounter. The police told her, there’s nothing we can do. The City of Houston is under a voluntary evacuation order, not mandatory. The guy’s lived there under the bridge for years; if he tells us it’s his home (and doesn't want to leave), then we honor it.

Next to the homeless man’s garbage bags was a Red Cross Emergency Kit. We weren’t the first to offer help.

Clergy from several of the poorer areas of town, the wards, have visited city authorities and asked what to do about getting parishioners to safety. They were told to have them call 311 for assistance. The clergy retorted that not all people have telephones or televisions. They want to take answers back to the neighborhoods.... They want answers now.... I hope their passion and insistence will do the trick, so that the sins of Katrina aren’t repeated.

I’m closing by reiterating how much everyone’s words of support and affection, their prayers, mean to me as I face the next couple of days. If the roles were reversed, be assured I’d do my best to be present to you. I may not be able to post after today through the weekend. Only time, and Rita, will tell, but I’ll get word out somehow on how I’m doing. There are friends on Live Journal who have my cell, my parents’ home number and the hotel number here. I know I can count on you to spread the word further as I “shelter in place” in Houston.