Sorry to cut out abruptly in my last post; the official VM brother-in-law-to-be walked in, so we talked about post-hurricane life for a bit. Now I’m being Uncle Gil for his three-year-old, whom I’ve previously noted sounds just like Meatwad from the Aqua Teen Hunger Force. I’ll show him a bunch of pix from the San Diego Comic-Con folder on my laptop, and try to explain to him that people actually try to make a living by drawing comics. That oughtta distract him.
Back to Thursday afternoon: When we got into the parking lot of the airport, I saw a mini-van that looked as if it had been lived in for weeks. It was the first real sign of what’s going on down here.
It was a pretty freaky experience to drive through some of the residential neighborhoods. From the highway, I saw some garden apartments with massive piles of debris outside, the contents of each home lying in heaps in the parking lot. Massive trees were uprooted and just about every sign and billboard was blown down or wrecked. Windows were blown out of office towers and hotels. I can’t wrap my brain around the idea that all these areas were underwater 7 weeks ago. The absoluteness of it depressed the hell out of me; the idea that nowhere was really safe.
That was compounded by Amy’s parents’ stories about various relatives and acquaintances down here. Some doctors have left the area, with no plans to return. Some have come back, but have almost no clients left. On the highways, there were millions of small signs posted, advertising reopened stores and restaurants, contruction / demolition / de-molding services, lawyers pursuing class action suits against the levees or something. Boarded windows everywhere.