Happy Thanksgiving to everyone

First Days 3

Well it looks like I'm going to be going back to Louisiana sometime in the near future. I am completely happy about the opportunity to go back and help out. For one, I'm not a big fan of cold weather, and it's turning colder in Chicago every day. Ok, that's not really a reason. I just want to go back.

Anyway, here's some more pictures of what it looked like in the first days:


This could be any day on the road to and from New Orleans, but it's what traffic looked like on September 5th (and continued to look like while I was there):


Looks to me like a pile of debris created from clearing the road. I could be wrong:


Where the water meets the road:


Here's how all those boats came to end up strewn across the streets of the city:



Thank you to the good people of Tetra Tech and Weston.

First Days 2

Here's some more Tetra Tech photos, these from the 3rd of September. Looking through the pictures, much of the urban area was clearly under water. It's surreal to see water completely surrounding every building in sight.

Thanks again to the person who took these (email me and let me know who you are so I can give you credit!).

Especially whoever took this one, as it pretty much explains what happened to the gulf coast:


Another couple shots of why the roads turned into docks:


Could you imagine driving through your city or town and seeing it look like this:

Or this:

Or this:

I'd imagine that a lot of people have pictures of the devastation, or a picture of something they saw that touched them. If anyone wants to post a picture they took, email it to me with a little story behind the picture (or caption of what it is we're looking at). I'll post it here for you. The offer extends to anyone I work with, anyone I worked with in Louisiana, or anyone who knows a person from the first two categories.

The great time killer

I didn't post yesterday but this time I have an excuse. I just got the one on the left, and gave the one on the right to my dad:


I've got Family Guy on it right now, Simpsons to come. But I digress...

First days 1

Here's a few more pics from the beginning days of the hurricane's result. Thanks to the good folks from Tetra and everyone in that warehouse in Baton Rouge(hey at least there are more things open in the neighborhood around the warehouse than there were near the LDEQ building. Frostop notwithstanding--that place has the best eats):

A flooded Canal Street:

These poor guys:

Now I need to say, I have no idea what became of those poor dogs. I have seen small packs of dogs in the streets of every heavily affected (read: neighborhoods that were ghost towns at the time I visited them) neighborhood I've been in except for the West End and the 9th Ward. Keep in mind I did not walk through entire neighborhoods, either, maybe a couple blocks and a drive into and out of the neighborhoods). I did see a solitary dog in the 9th Ward, closer to the northwest corner of the neighborhood... a little dog who looked very scared, very tired, but still alive. I must also say that I think the SPCA folks have done a good job of not only rounding up the poor animals, but also leaving clean water and giant bags of dog food every few blocks, so that these poor critters, while shocked and confused by what has happened to them, are still alive, and can eventually be rescued. So don't give up on the dogs in the picture, because there are a lot of good folks out there who are doing a lot to make sure that the impact on even the animals of New Orleans is as minimal as possible.

A sheen on the water:

And some high speed flood transportation:

What it was like to be there on the first day

I have a lot of respect for the folks that I worked with, especially those people who were there from the outset. I had arrived onto a scene where people had already had the opportunity to search every building and vehicle which was humanly possible to search, as the spray paint on everything had indicated. But here's some pics given to me by the folks who were there from the outset. Those water lines on every building: this is what it was like to be there when that line was created.

Thanks to whoever took these pictures. It's absolutely amazing. As with every picture that is not mine, I try to give credit a best I can, and so if you know who took a certain picture let me know so I can give proper credit (see top of page for contact info). Likewise, if you took the picture and you want me to take it down, let me know.

These photos, I believe, came from August 31 (UPDATE: August 30 also/mostly), as evidenced by the date stamp in the corner. Here's what it looked like when the floodwater filled the bowl:




Stop signs are pretty high up, and you can see the tip of one in the center of this picture:

I saw a lot of boats randomly strewn about the city while I drove through it. Here's how a lot of them got there. It's amazing that they had to turn the on/off ramps into loading docks:

Post-trip pictures

I've promised to upload more pictures, so here we go. I've literally got thousands of pictures of this event, and there's no way I can put them all up, so I'll do a few at a time and eventually run out of server space.

Anyway...

So my last day in Louisiana, I ended up going back to New Orleans in order to introduce my replacement, Carolyn, to the air sampling crew, so that they could get on the same page. It ends up that Troy-who I worked with every day in the office-was about to take a little vacation, and he, too had a replacement who would need to meet everyone. Gina (who worked in the office too) was putting together a picture show of all the things EPA is doing out there, and came along to document the air sampling stations that we were building. So we took a field trip. We caravaned over to the Metarie Technical College (where the whole operation ended up moving on the day I left), where we had a meeting. From there, we went downtown to see what it looked like. While there, we ended up at 'tent city' which the federal government (namely FEMA) had set up. Let me tell you something. When the government gets going, serious stuff happens. This camp was blocks big and had air conditioned tents, laundry facilities, bathrooms, you name it.

We were used to eating MRE's (meals ready to eat) while out in the field. Now, while MRE's are made of food, they're no seven course meal. We heard that there were better eats at tent city, so we checked it out. All rumors turned out to be more than true! We went to the lunch trailer, which was a semi truck literally filled with sack lunches. It was amazing. We were given giant sack lunches, which, seriously, could have sustained us all day if necessary. There was a sandwich with like 2 inches of lunch meat between the bread, a can of juice, a can of V8, a can of Chef Boyardee pasta, a candy bar, fig newtons, a big jug of Powerade, and condiments (I know I'm forgetting stuff--at the time it felt like we were opening the horn of plenty). Anyway, here's all of us, happy as pigs in...well...just happy to be eating actual food:
(Gina and I are giving props to the sack lunch genie, who magically filled an entire truck with tasty lunches for aid workers)

Anyway, our food comas over, we headed out to the lower 9th ward, because we knew that it was almost dry, but wanted to see exactly what it looked like. It still smelled like a bog, and with daylight running out, it was very quiet and still very somber.

I suspect this was a block of homes, but you can see that one house floated and landed on top of some stuff.

Apparently, there may or may not be/have been a body in there. Maybe the rescuers smelled the corpse of a dog (or a rotting refrigerator) but who knows, it's still eerie:

More of people's lives in a giant, destroyed pile:

So much stuff inside that front door, and the rescue markings indicate that a dog was found and probably rescued:

The barge which floated over the levee:

The giant skid mark which I think the barge made as it came over the levee:

What I call the 'drive thru house', a home that had floated partially across the street. What you can't see is that the wall on the other side of the house (where those folks are standing and looking at) had fallen down, and you could look right into what used to be someone's living room:

Said living room (I wonder if that clock kept running or had stopped...I don't remember what time we were there, but it was later in the afternoon for sure):

A home that floated and then landed on some cars:

What used to be someone's bathroom:

Now this one was strange. We walked about a block from where we parked, because some parts of the Lower 9th ward are impassible by car. And we came upon a pool of floodwater (one of the several which pockmark the ward, as the pumps can't get to these pools, they must evaporate) which had some egrets swimming in it. It's hard to explain, but because of the silence of standing in the middle of the desolation, all we heard was the sound of these birds splashing in the water. It's something you'd expect to see and hear in a forest, and it sure sounded like it but to see them in this setting is just weird:

Home Sweet Home

Well, I got home on Saturday, October 8. I left Baton Rouge at about 6:30am, and got in the front door at about 7:45pm. It was a long ass day of driving, my friends. I drank coffee. I stopped at rest stops. I had McDonald's and a bunch of granola bars. I stared at the highway. If it wasn't for the satellite radio in the car, I would have probably been drooling, too. I spent the first two nights home showing my family and friends all the pictures I have, and telling them all the stories I'd lived through. It was good to be home, but sad to leave Louisiana. It's hard to explain.

The weird thing is that while I felt really bad for the people whose lives were ended or affected by the hurricane, I never felt terribly adversely affected by what I saw while I was actually there. Sure, I was shocked by the destruction. I couldn't help but get that knot in my throat when I saw a picture of a family lodged in the sediment of a flooded neighborhood. The thing is, the general mood of not only the people around me, but the people I'd encountered whose homes had been destroyed was positive. Families on their way to look through what used to be their homes (much like what you see on this blog) still smiled and waved to me, even in the middle of that wasteland that is the hardest-hit parts of New Orleans and southern Louisiana. Still, when I got home, I had dreams of walking, driving through the really hard hit neighborhoods. They weren't nightmares, but the kind of dreams you have that you wake up and just know were weird in that things-are-not-supposed-to-be-like-that way.

I work for EPA, so my job is by default rewarding. I can make an actual difference in peoples' lives--albeit a small one. Not too many people can say that about their jobs. However, I can honestly say that I've never been as interested in or excited about the work I do as I was about the work I performed in Louisiana. Nor have I ever felt like I've actually done something like when I was in Louisiana.

I have left my laptop at work since I got back, so I haven't posted because I don't have any pictures to upload. But tomorrow I'm going to give a little narrated slide show for my section, and will then bring my laptop home. I promise that I will put more pictures and stories up then.

By the way, the last night I was in Baton Rouge, I had a good conversation with the lady who works the security desk at the Louisiana Department of Environmental Quality building. I know I told her so, but she's the perfect example of humanity: she's housing evacuees from New Orleans. You find that when you meet people who actually accomplish good things in this world, you have a very deep respect for them.

Also, I genuinely enjoyed meeting and working with everybody down there. There are too many people to say hello and thank you to. I know I'm too spastic to remember to post a 'thank you' post about the folks I met. However, to anybody who reads this who was or still is working down in Louisiana: Thanks for the opportunity to meet you. I'll never forget you.

Guest Photobogging, Part 4

Ok, so I am not 100% sure on who took these, but I saw this stuff with my own eyes when driving through the 9th ward of New Orleans (if you know, let me know). First off, you'll notice that city buses seem to have been abandoned and left on the sides of the road. I don't know what transpired to have them end up like this, but going through the lower 9th, I saw about 3 buses which look like the driver just up and took off. Perhaps they got flooded out and the drivers needed to be rescued. I don't know. Also, people have created what can very loosely be termed "sidewalk disaster art". When you drive through the 9th ward, you see these assemblages on the median of the road, and at first they look like debris, like everything else. When you get closer, you notice that people put these things together. From what I understand, many of these are now removed, but thankfully someone took these photos for posterity. Honestly, it's a little creepy to see this stuff.
Abandoned bus.
Another one.
The sign reads "Lower 9th R.I.P.". Sad.
"Toxic Art: This exhibition will kill you"

I'm pretty sure that Martha Steward did not sleep there.
Someone broke into the wig store and created this. It's pretty damn eerie to see.
A below-ground pool has been converted to an above-ground pool thanks to Katrina.

Guest Photoblogging, Part 3

Ok, so the formatting on that last post is screwy. I am not well versed in html, nor am I going to attempt to learn. So here's some more pictures from Sandy. She got to go up in a helicopter, and I've included a few pic of what she saw from the sky.

This gives you a sense of the scale of destruction out there. It's insane.

You can also see the 17th street canal breach, where I was on the ground on both sides. Check the pictures that I posted on September 30. The last 9 pictures are from the areas on both sides of the 17th street canal breach. The way to tell the difference between the "good" and "bad" sides is the sludge and mud on the "bad" side. Even though the contrast is amazing, both areas are pretty badly damaged. Obviously the flooded side moreso.

Here's more pics from Sandy. Thanks, Sandy.

I leaned up against the levee/floodwall directly across from the breach, pretty much right where that street runs perpendicular to the canal. The pictures I posted on the 30th which show folks leaning up against the floodwall...well, they're standing approximately right there. All the nasty destruction photos from the 30th were taken in the general vicinity of the breached side of the canal. I can't believe that's what it looked like. On second thought, I can.

See that middle tank on the right side? Notice how it had floated up and moved a number of feet and shifted. This caused a number of gallons of oil to leak out. On second inspection, notice how all three tanks on the right appear to have lifted up and shifted... That's a lot of oil in those tanks. Strike that. That's a lot of oil on the ground that used to be in those tanks.
Unfortunately, this is not a photo of Venice...

Guest Photoblogging Part 2

Still the office monkey, so I asked Joe if he would let me share photos of some of his travels, and he said sure. Joe's a rugged guy, and when I get back to the trailers each night, he's there with a beer and a smoke, telling us his tales of being in the field north of New Orleans. But even he seems to be affected by what he sees every day. It's easy to just see numbers and statistics when you're in an office, but when you're out in the field, you see refrigerators, fuel canisters, oil spills, destroyed homes, and everything that the hurricane and storm surge have wrought throughout southern Louisana.

Joe has seen some amazing things, but I think this picture is the most amazing. There is this house with one of its walls completely torn off, and yet the bed is perfectly made:




Amazing.



He's also seen a lot of refrigerators, coolers, and the like which are full of spoiled meat. These things have been baking in 90+ degree heat for over a month. The flies love it. The humans certainly do not:


I don't want to even think about what that smells like.




Check out the car underneath the water here:





I guess you can tell your destroyed home is in Louisiana by the giant box of mardi-gras beads in the rubble pile:





When this area was flooded, it made sense to tie your boat to a street sign. It looks a little different once the waters recede:





Alternatively, you could let the storm and flood park your boat for you:





Here are a few more things that can make even a rugged guy like Joe feel overwhelmed:









Thanks for letting me post these pictures, Joe.

Guest Photoblogging

I'm an office monkey for the rest of the week, so I doubt I'll have any opportunity to take interesting pictures. Sandy has been going out in the field every day inspecting underground storage tanks (the big tanks underneath gas stations). She took some interesting photos which she said I could share with y'all.
Peering inside the breached doorway of one destroyed (looks like it was looted) gas station.
Exterior of said gas station. Note Superdome in background.
I don't think you could if you tried...
Looted buildings on Canal Street in downtown New Orleans

World, meet Warren. Warren, meet the world.

This is Outfall Pump #7. When I was there on September 30, I took this picture. The water is brown, and smells like what it looks like. It smells very bad.


These are the Wood screw pumps, designed by Albert Baldwin Wood in 1913. They are the workhorses of Pump station #7, taking he sewage-laden water out of the city and putting it into lake Pontchartrain.

This is the control room of Pump #7. Inside are very old switchboards that control the station.

This is Warren. He is an older man (I believe in his 60's) who has lived in New Orleans his entire life. His home was destroyed by floodwater from Hurricane Katrina. He has lived in the control room of Pump #7 for over 30 days, and has worked continuously to ensure that his section of the city becomes--and remains--dry. I spoke to Warren for about 20 minutes that day. For a man who has lost everything, he continues to do his duty to help his fellow man. He performs this task tirelessly. I do not know what portion of ourselves contains the will to remain calm, collected, and upbeat throughout the worst times of our lives, but Warren has this portion in spades. He joked with me and managed to smile even as he told me about what had happened to him and his family. He spoke about common sense. He is thankful that his family has survived, even though their belongings have not. He worries about what will happen to him after this event is over. He has performed an essential duty in a time of dire need without anybody knowing or recognizing it, and for this reason, I am posting his story here. The world needs to see the faces of the folks who are working tirelessly to recover New Orleans. So if you ever see this man, if you ever get the chance to talk to Warren and see him smile and tell you a story, give him a hug. If you are a New Orleans resident, be thankful that Warren--and people like him--exist on this Earth, for they are the reason why the city is not underwater anymore. They are the backbone of that which makes man help his fellow man.

Mad Max: Beyond New Orleans

So I have some time to tell you about what it was like driving through New Orleans and the devastated areas. It's pretty much like the Mad Max movies. There are no rules, except for one: do what it takes to get where you need to go. For example, yesterday we were looking for a way into the lower 9th ward, and we came across a pretty flooded underpass. A van barely made it through and since the Chrysler Pacifica (which I am driving) by far doesn't qualify as an SUV, let alone a truck (its a piece of shit), we decided that going through the water wouldn't cut it. I drove up on the sidewalk and literally drove up the embankment and around the flooded road. One way street? Think again. As long as there isn't something in the road that could bottom out your car or pop your tires, you can drive through it. When I went out on the 30th, we were in a huge diesel pickup. We drove up levees and through parks. It's like the videogame you've always wanted to play, except the circumstances which created it are so sad.

I don't know what royal idiot decided to let people back into the areas that I have taken pictures of, but there are people without any protective gear at all going into their sludge and mold and debris filled homes, trying to salvage what they can out of them. There is very, very little that they can get out. They are going to get sick, and probably some of them will die. It's disgusting in those homes, and it's a clear health hazard. Shame on whoever let them back in without instructing them to take protective measures or providing them with protective gear.

People on the streets in the lower 9th ward and the West End--which, so far have comprised of utility and construction(destruction) crews, insurance assessors, protective services, EPA, animal rescue, and those locals mentioned above--have greeted us with smiles and waves, so people are in good spirits down here, events notwithstanding. Those people and the number of zeros written on homes (which signify that no dead were found in that home) are the few uplifting things about the whole experience.

Wow part 2

Sorry I haven't updated in a while, I've been busy learning my new duties. I went out to New Orleans again today. I went to the flooded areas in the lower 9th ward. Here are some pictures of what may just qualify as hell on earth.




Hey, I know that guy...

Wow...

I went out with some very cool people from the outfall water sampling group #2. We went out to pumps #16, #14, #7, as well as the Orleans Canal and London Canal. Then we met up with another water sampling team at the West End neighborhood--the one that flooded because of the 17th Street Canal breach. I saw both sides of the breach. The "bad" side got wind and flood damage. The "good" side just got wind damage. To call either one as being in good shape is a complete lie. I'll add explanations of the pictures at a later date. I took 186 pictures today. Here's some of what I saw.

I am very tired and have to start my new duties as te Environmental Assessment Branch Chief tomorrow. It involves hectic office work, which actually should be alright. It's the acronyms and task names that I have to learn which will be the difficult part. Figuring out the protocols and how everyone interacts will be important, because people will chew you out if you talk to the wrong person in the chain. Good times.

Ok, this time I mean it... I'm going to New Orleans

Well, I got up at 5am and spent the better part of a half-hour trying to get on the internet to look up the directions of where I was supposed to meet my team to go to New Orleans. I thought I had figured it out, and I drove to "Camp EPA", which really is just an unused parking garage which now has some EPA trailers and vehicles in it. I thought I was all set, but nobody was there. I got a phone call from the coordinator, who was wondering why I was 10 minutes late. Well.. it ends up they just left without me, and I got to sit in the office and learn my new job. I'm actually glad I didn't make it out there today, because without seeing on paper what folks are doing, I would have been totally blown out of the water on Saturday, when I start performing my duties in earnest.

I have a space at the Operations Section in the Incident Management Team. Basically, we've taken over a section of the Louisiana Department of Environmental Quality's 10th floor, and we've got an entire mobile office set up in here, right down to the snack table complete with Moon Pies. That's right: we've got Moon Pies, so you know that we're getting things done.

It's very hectic in the IMT, but it's actually strange: in my normal duties with EPA, I'll create a document, make 3 or so copies, give them to 3 different people, make 3 sets of edits, and repeat the process until everyone's happy. That's pretty much what I did today. So, it's not that bad (sure, I say that now...). I'm the group supervisor for the Environmental Sampling Group. There are 5 teams of people that are taking water and sediment samples across the city, and I'm the guy that keeps track of where they're going, what they're doing, where they've gone, and where they've been. At least, that's what I think I'm doing. The general rule of thumb around here is that things change.

There are really good folks in this building right now. I've only been here a couple days and I'm pretty wiped, but some of these people have been here since just after Katrina hit. They can quite possibly be labeled 'certifiably insane' for their commitment to their jobs, and their ability to handle the absolute insanity that is addressing a disaster.

I have a car, so I drove to a little deli and got a sandwich. It's chicken salad, and it's delicious.

This town--actually, this whole state--is like an old shoe. Even the really nice part of town is run down--like the stop lights are rusty or the sidewalk is cracked. The old part of town looks even older. Everything in this state looks like it's been used for a long, long time. It's got character though. And really good food. So I shouldn't complain (even though I still will).

So you saw the rom of cots that I've been sleeping in the last couple nights. Thank my Lucky Charms that Jim gave me a set of earplugs, because I can hear people snoring across the room even with them on. Regardless, I've been sleeping just fine. But now, much like George Jefferson, I get to move on up to that de-lux apartment in the sky-ay-ay. I'm heading out to "Camp Katrina" which is a bunch of trailers (3 per trailer with our own shower!) located at a stable. I don't think the horses are there, though. If we're hanging out with manure, that would be a slight step down from the cot room.

Last night Sandy and I got a couple cases of beer and drank with a few guys on the corner, tailgate style. We can't drink on State property, but the State doesn't own the sidewalk or the outer portion of grass. Well, maybe they do, but we are still able to drink on the sidewalk and that outer portion of grass anyway. There's a guy from Philly named James who is hilarious. The three of us sat and told stories like I would with my good friends from home. It was a great time.

So Tomorrow I'm going out to New Orleans with a water sampling team, and this time, it's for real. I promise I'll fill my camera with pictures, and I'll probably let them speak for themselves. It should be an adventure, because even though we have street maps, when the State Department of Transportation gives out traffic reports like:

"All roads are drivable, except for the ones underwater"

...you know it's going to be interesting. (the state DOT actually did give out almost exactly that report, which gave everybody here a good laugh)

This will be interesting. But for now, I sleep.

Our "mobile office" is through the doorway, to the right is about half a floor's worth of cubicles, most of which are occupied by EPA staff.

The cubicles to the right.

The first half of out mobile office. Everyone's in a meeting right now (I'm not a big fish, so I do not have to attend), but it's really packed most of the time.

The second half of the mobile office. My space is that laptop facing the end of the table to the right. Sitting down is Pete, my boss. He's a cool guy. He's got a quality I need to learn: he's direct and to the point. He also didn't kill me for making a few mistakes on my first day. Here's to hoping I don't make any more.

Off to New Orleans

I am the group supervisor for the outfall/flood water sampling group. As soon as the logistics folks can find me a vehicle, I'm of to drive to New Orleans to join up with the floodwater sampling group. I've got a radio, EPA clothing, and all the stuff I need to go out there. I am just pissed that it's taking so long to find a vehicle. They tell us at 7 in the morning that we're going to head out there, then expect us to automatically have a vehicle to do it. So, as long as I get a 4WD within the next hour, I'll be happy. Stories and pictures to follow.

Baton Rouge, maybe tomorrow we'll do something

Today we drove into Baton Rouge. We went east from Dallas toward Shreveport, then south to Lafayette, then we took I-10 (the one that has been really hammered by Katrina east of New Orleans and in Mississippi) to Baton Rouge.

First, it is hot. It's really freaking hot down here. Sure, it's only 95 degrees, but it's so humid that as soon as you get out of the air conditioned buildings, you just feel like your clothes are stuck to you. Also, Louisiana is kind of crappy. Driving down I-49, we expected to see towns and gas stations and stores along the highway, but for some reason, anything resembling civilization is not located along the highways.

Hurricane damage: We've seen some significant damage even as far north as Shreveport. There is a lot of water everywhere. Sure, there are swamps and bayous, which are supposed to be wet. But everything looks just waterlogged around here. There were a lot of fallen trees everywhere we looked south of Shreveport. We told ourselves that we wouldn't let the gas tank get below half-full, and gassed up as often as we could along the way. There were runs on gasoline as far north as Mansfield. We stopped at a station somewhere just south of Mansfield, and of the three stations, one was completely out of gas, while the other two had lines for gas a couple cars deep. We ate at a Wendy's, which was out of fruit, and had no other sodas than root beer, fruit punch, diet coke, and iced tea. The shelves of the gas stations were mostly empty, and it just seemed like all the people we saw were either travelling away from the hurricane-damaged parts of LA, or going back to see what's left of their homes. Everyone in this state seems to be in transition.

We stopped at a Wal Mart in Natchitoches and I picked up some hiking boots, a knife, a raincoat, and some bug spray. While I was being ringed up by the lady at the guns and ammunition counter, 8 people asked her where stuff was located in the store. 5 of her answers were "we're out of that". They're out of air conditioners, ice chests, (mostly out of) batteries, and other necessities. The store looked just well worn. Some shelves were unscathed by the purchasing populace, while other shelves were completely devoid of goods. The traffic in Natchitoches is horrible, by the way. It took more than a half hour to go just a couple miles and back. And to top it off, I set off the store alarm because of the sensor in the box of my boots (which, for the record, I did pay for).

The stretch of I-10 from Lafayette to Baton Rouge was somewhat surreal. Going east, all I saw was army/Nat'l guard caravans, fuel trucks, semis loaded with goods, heavy equipment, government vehicles (EPA, DHS, etc.), and cars full of families or full of possessions. Going west, we saw power company trucks and more of same. Most of I-10 on this stretch of road is very pleasant. It's all elevated, and you drive above swamps and bayous. There was water all below us, I don't know if it's supposed to be there all the time or not, but Southern Louisiana is waterlogged.

When we got into town, the thing I noticed most is that the feds have pretty much moved into town, and there is a general 'loose' sense across the whole state. Not lawlessness, but it just feels like there's a little more leeway to do what you feel down here.

We arrived at the Louisiana Department of Environmental Quality building, where I am spending the night. We checked in, got ID's made, and I was sent off to the Joint Federal Operations center down the road for my inoculations. The JOC is just insane. I was greeted by Blackwater guards, who carded me and let me in (I am a federal employee, after all). The JOC is basically this huge warehouse-cum-operations center. You name the agency, and it's in there. I went up a freight elevator full of federal police (think swat team members), and went to the medical portion of the cube forest that has sprung up inside this building. A nice lady gave me my inoculations. I know I had a Hepatitis A and B inoculation before I went to college, but being the sucker for punishment I am, got them again. Now I get to go back to the doctor in a few weeks and again in a few months to get more shots. But at least I'll be very sure I won't get Hep A or B.

Got back to the LDEQ building and went to our first briefing. We were put in a conference room full of huge satellite photos of New Orleans, and maps of known damage, flooded areas, and other information. We were shown some pictures of what to expect when we get out in the field tomorrow. All I can say is if I take pictures half as good as the ones I saw today, you're all in for some serious storm damage.

We learned what to be careful of while we're in the field: everything. There are oil slicked roads that when wet can skid your car. There are any number of poisonous snakes that can kill you. There are bugs, rabid packs of dogs, toxic waste, hazardous materials, and mold. The mold is apparently inches thick inside most of the water damaged buildings, and a lot of people are already getting upper respiratory infections. I am definitely getting a respirator if I go inside a home. WE have to watch out for gators, and spiders, and tire-flattening debris. Although almost all of the power lines we'll come across are not powered, people are hard-wiring generator to their homes, which sends juice through the lines, which just adds to the list of things that can hurt me in the field. So it should be good times. I will find out where I'll be tomorrow morning. I hope that my posts get more interesting. I'll probably post tomorrow night, if I am able to. For now, you'll have to settle for this pic of some storm damage in Baton Rouge.
Some building fell apart.

Where I'm sleeping tonight. (Sorry, it's blurry, but there are people sleeping in there now, so I ain't taking another one).

Louisana it is

So we finally figured out where we're going. Tomorrow morning we're heading out to Baton Rouge, LA. Although we've been told that our job will probably change once we get there, I was told that I'm part of the Hazardous Debris Task Force. No idea what that involves yet, but I'm sure I'll let you know as time progresses.

We have to be at the operations center at 4pm, and some roads between here and Baton Rouge are impassable, so we're giving ourselves plenty of time to get there. Luckily, since we're in Dallas, we'll be north of a lot of the damaged areas until we get closer to Baton Rouge. Hopefully we'll get there with little trouble. But what this means is that I'll have some exciting pictures to share, as well as actual good stories of helping the Gulf Coast recover from what happened.

I'll post when I can. I know that we're going to be sleeping in a hallway of the Louisiana Department of Environmental Quality building in Baton Rouge. I know that there's a lot of devastation in southern Louisiana. Other than that, I don't know much else right now. It's exciting in a way, because even though I don't know exactly what will transpire in the coming days, I know that it will all be for a good cause. And I'll be surrounded by good people. That's all I need to know right now.

And the waiting is the hardest part

Tom Petty was right. We had a meeting at 8 in the morning, where we were told that Texas doesn't have as much damage as they expected, and EPA is not requested to help. HQ doesn't want to have us come down here for nothing, so they're looking to integrate us with the Louisiana relief efforts--either in New Orleans or Lake Charles. We've got another meeting at 6pm, so maybe we'll know something then.

We went to the site where JFK was shot. What I took from going there was that the entire area is just so much smaller than it looks in the video. There are two "x" marks on the road, one black (where the first bullet struck JFK) and one white (where the second bullet hit). They're not that far apart, maybe a few car lengths. We visited the grassy knoll and stood outside the book depository. Here are some pics:

The grassy knoll is to the left of center.


A view of the book depository (far left) from the grassy knoll


The grassy knoll from the sidewalk.


View of white "x" from the grassy knoll.


The book depository building. There's a museum in the back, but I think that the county uses this building as an office...

(Insert 'Dallas' theme song here)

(Click the link above for the theme song for this post)

So, Dallas is ok. It's like Indianapolis or Minneapolis: there's nothing but parking lots next to a downtown (that was ghost-town-empty on a Sunday night) and a huge area of suburbs surrounding that. They do have super-nifty highways with big stars on the pilings. Lone stars. They're big because, well, everything's bigger in Texas...even the stars on their highways. And BBQ. Sweet, sweet BBQ. Luckily Jim and Sandy like BBQ too, so we've had it twice in two days. We went to a joint where the brisket was cut right in front of us. Yesterday we went to a place that advertised its food as 'world famous' BBQ. Tonight's place said they'd been there 'since 1948'. The 'world famous' BBQ was tastier than the tried and true BBQ. So that's a little tip for y'all city folk: while both are very good in and of themselves, 'world class' BBQ is superior to BBQ 'since 1948'.

I have a real beef with the fact that Chicago doesn't have as many BBQ joints as we do burrito joints. Human beings should have ready access to tasty food of all kinds at all hours, it's as simple as that.

Again, I have no idea what I'm going to be doing down here or where I will be working. I can only speculate that I will either wok 12 hour days in an office in Dallas (in which case this blog's level of interestingness will be in the crapper) or I'll be sent to areas which have been damaged. If I am sent out to the coast to work in hurricane damaged areas--which I hope that I will--this blog will be the most efficient way to communicate to my family and friends. For now, indulge yourselves with these pictures from the 12th floor of the Dallas Park Central Westin hotel.


The buildings in the foreground are not downtown Dallas. Dallas and Fort Worth can be seen behind the office park.

The call; the trip South

Sunset while refueling somewhere in the middle of Missouri

So, I'm in Dallas, Texas. The Agency sent out a call for volunteers to go on a 2 or 3 week stint for hurricane relief before Katrina hit, and I asked my boss, got the o.k., and told our emergency response coordinator that I could go if needed. I got the call to head to Dallas on Friday at about 2 in the afternoon. After work I went to the Sox game, went to the Second City, passed out, and got in a Suburban at 12:30 the next day with a couple other EPA folks: an underground storage tank inspector named Sandy, and a guy from Superfund (hazardous area cleanup) named Jim. Both are cool, given that we have been getting along and laughing from the get-go, and we still laughed our way into Texas. So that's good. We don't know what we're supposed to do yet, but we'll find out tomorrow morning a 8am at EPA's Region 6 building downtown. I'll post more after dinner.