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 The day before our flight to Baton Rouge. ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) nofunangie, I and Keith at the Nashville Red Cross.
The next day, at the New Orleans airport, when we pulled up to the airport valet, hopes for the car being okay were a little dodgy. Luckily, our car wasn't parked under this roof.
Our friend Greg's kitchen, which I waded through to fetch his howling cat.
The Mega-Shelter for rescued animals in Gonzales, LA. In each cell are ten or so cages with one or two animals in each. There are around seven rows like these of cells per "barn." There are five "barns." Do the math.
The next day we entered the city. I was very focused on driving to miss debris in the road or to skirt official checkpoints, so I didn't take as many pictures in New Orleans that I wanted to. It was really scary to be there. We didn't want to get caught by the National Guard or a cop and have our mission fail. I would stop for one second to take a picture and Ben, who was just as frightened as I was, would say, "Just go! Drive! Don't stop!"
Driving down St. Charles Ave., I was happy to see most of the beautiful, 200+ year old oaks were standing. I only saw about five that were completely downed.
I, like all of you, had spent the last week watching TV and seeing photos and videos of the destruction of New Orleans. I thought I was prepared to see things with my own eyes. But to get close to familiar places — my places — now destroyed, tête-à-tête as it were, accompanied with the foul, death stench wafting through the city that you don't sense from watching TV — those were the most jarring and 'awakening' moments for me.
Here is the Country Club (behind Markey's), my favorite Bywater bar. I really hope they rebuild and stay open.
On the up-side, petrol is only 48¢ in New Orleans!
God Bless The John.
Here's something you don't see on the news. A house that's not flooded, nor damaged. Luckily, this one is mine. (We lost some shutters on the upstairs balcony. I think I can live with that.)
This is spray painted on all the houses in the city after being checked for corpses.
Clifford's back yard seems to be the only property damage we sustained.
BEFORE:
AFTER:
After our awful tasks in New Orleans, I spent most of the day in tears, both joyful and remorseful, and I couldn't get enough of holding Harley. "Where are we going today, Toonses?"
They make you wear stickers at the Gonzales Super-Shelter where we then went to pick up Zelda.
You like a hairy chest?
Our back seat. There was one more cat jail added later.
Makeshift cat toilet next to people toilet as we smuggled all four into the Hampton Inn, Jackson, MS.
The next morning, 1000 miles from Philadelphia, we were teased with this sign in mid-Mississippi. "Well, that was a quick drive!" I thought.
Our mobile media center for the next three days (minus the camera which I was using to take this picture), with Harley perched on the arm rest.
The day we left Jackson, I drove straight through to Roanoke, Virginia. 750 miles. Loooong day. Yesterday we left Roanoke and drove through the foggy Blue Ridge Mountains in the morning, leaving New Orleans a thousand miles behind us to lick its wounds and clean itself up.
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