Mark and I got into the city on September 28, 2005. It was almost exactly a month from the day the levees broke. He had a military ID card that allowed us to gain entry from the interstate in Gentilly. Jefferson Parish was bustling with activity. Orleans Parish was quite the opposite. Some areas were still flooded. We tried to move across the city down Canal Boulevard, but the low lying areas were impassable.
We wound through the streets dodging limbs, cars, boats and other debris. Off of Elysian Fields we passed a home with a handicapped ramp. The mark outside indicated that a body had been found inside. We stopped for a moment to let the idea sink in. As we moved on we watched the marks move from the area near the front door on some places to the roofs of others. The water was too high at the time these houses were checked to enter through the door so holes had been cut in the roof and marks left behind. Coming over one bridge in Lakeview we found a boat still tied to the bridge in the roadway. It reminded us to be much more careful as we moved forward.
When we made it to my neighborhood the news wasn't good. A large home on the corner had burnt to the ground. I'm still not sure what happened and it left the area less recognizable. It was similar to the first time I went to my parents' house after the storm. The area looked so different with pine logs stacked 8 feet high along most of the highway. I passed the entrance to their neighborhood without even realizing it. I'd lived there for 8 years, but nothing looked the same. Nothing at all.
At my house, my car sat in the driveway covered in a gray film. Items that had been on the seats were now on the dashboard. It had a fuzzy covering of mold everywhere and lines indicating how the water receded. Mark removed my diver's flag license plate that he had given to me and tried to clean it up a little. I took some pictures, closed the door and left the car key on the windshield. The insurance company would have their proof.
Opening the front door was no easy task. The wood had swollen shut and we had to use a sledgehammer to enter. Inside, it looked as though a bomb had gone off. Despite being three feet off the ground, two feet of water had still filled the house. Mold had begun creeping up the walls and there were tiny brown frogs everywhere. Furniture had collapsed causing the destruction of even more things. I took the comforter off of my bed and the sheets below were mildewed.
I was an emotional wreck as I went through photo albums to salvage what I could. We worked for hours and it didn't feel like we made any progress. We drug the refrigerator to the front of the house being careful not to let the black sludge touch us. An hour or so before dusk we took some sentimental things that had survived and left for Mark's house.
It was like night and day, the differences in the two neighborhoods. Mark lived closer to the river than me, but only about four miles away. While my neighborhood was gray and lifeless, his was vibrant with blooming hibiscus and power! Holy crap, he had power! Most of the city didn't have power. His Mardi Gras lights lit up the entrance way as we walked into the sweet air conditioning. One second later we were hit with the most nauseating stench imaginable.
One major danger of losing power as a south Louisiana resident is the danger of losing your freezer contents. For example, it would be really bad if you had 50 pounds of beautiful Louisiana brown shrimp in your freezer that liquefied in the heat. Yes, it would be very bad. And it was.
More black sludge to avoid and another refrigerator to drag outside. Ew.
The water wasn't potable but I did hop in the shower to rinse off the crud from the day. We gathered a few of Mark's things headed out of the city as the curfew was going into effect. The National Guard took pity on us and just let us go. We were emotionally and physically exhausted.
The only way to describe what we saw is to think of every end-of-the-world movie you can imagine and make your city the star. Darkness, lifelessness, abandoned structures, stench - it was all there. That's the picture that I try to remember when I look at where we are today. That's the main image that helps me to see how far we've come in these last four years.
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