Like 2,000,000 other people yesterday, we decided to drift away from our dear city on the northern Gulf Coast. But before we headed out, Kočko and I soaked up some home turf before our departure.
(Kočko is chillin' with me in our Memphis hotel, as I write this. Ana's watching The Hustler with Laundry. They're both crazy about Paul Newman.)
We were the last ones to leave on our block.
It was strange to see our street completely devoid of cars.
I decided to take a slight different route this time than we did for Katrina. I figured the Causeway wouldn't be as crowded as taking I-10 to I-55, since we'd not have to fight with any of the dreaded Houston traffic. We took surface streets to the Causeway and headed across. We flowed across the lake at the speed limit.
Across the lake, orange cones and big signs routed us towards the contraflow of our choice. We chose I-12 east, to take us towards I-55 north.
At first, we clipped along I-55 (which they call Contrastate 55 at times like this) at a nice pace.
But when we hit the Mississippi state line, all that changed.
In all, it took us six hours to drive to Jackson. It normally takes just under three.
Ana took the wheel when I got tired. Unfortunately for her, her shift was mostly stop and go. Later, when I took the wheel, she got to catch up on the sleep she missed Saturday night getting the house ready to leave.
I love my girlfriend's cuteness.
Now we're camped out in Memphis, watching the reports from New Orleans. I'm disturbed by the reports on the Industrial Canal. A breach could flood the school where I teach, the central office of my school district and, if it was a bad enough breach, our house.
I'm wondering what the future holds for us and our dear city.