Hargrove Annual Report 2005: Hurrican Rita
As the date for the Austin City Limits Festival approached, so did Hurricane Rita. I commented to Claire when I picked her up at the airport that based on the current track, it wasn't clear whether the Festival was on. After all, as the TV has told us repeatedly, Rita is the most intense storm in history, a huge category 5, even stronger than Katrina. With the memory of that disaster fresh in everyone's mind, caution is the watchword.
Jenny Salomon, Claire's friend who planned to attend the ACL Festival, called later that day to make sure that she could work from our office in the house. She said that she expected to arrive in time for breakfast on Thursday and work there the rest of the day. Oh, was it OK to bring Rosie? Of course. Rosie is an old friend. Besides, we have never turned away a cat in need.
I call Mama in Houston. No answer. I leave a message on the phone: "Maybe you'd be safer in Austin. I think you should plan to drive up."
I flip on the TV. The news shows a traffic jam leaving Houston. I call back. Another message. "Never mind trying to leave Houston. Just let me know your plans."
I call Jenny to make sure she is still coming for breakfast. "Where are you now?" "Katy." "Katy! I guess you won't get here for breakfast, then." "Not likely. We left at 3:30 this morning. We just made it to Katy. I'm bringing two friends with me." "OK. Fine. See you later."
The store is jammed with people. Everyone is walking around with a cell phone to one ear. Overheard conversation, "They're out of that." Announcement on the PA: "We have three more pallets of bottled water that have just arrived. We'll be putting them out as soon as possible." There are no bananas. Correction, there are exactly four bananas left where usually 100 or so reside. No one seems inclined to buy the four that remain. I pick up essentials: Peanut butter (all natural is all that's left, but that's fine) some more jelly, lots of chips, cheese and salsa, several bottles of wine. Just the essentials.
My brother bill calls. He's on the outskirts of Austin, just passing the airport. He started the journey after Sam's baseball game ended about 11:00 last night. Wow, I tell him. Ten hours for what is usually a three hour trip. Amazing.
The news on the TV shows pictures of a massive traffic jam exiting Houston. Mama calls. She and Flo are planning to move from her high rise condo and camp out at the now bare house on Tiel Way. "We got through Carla OK. I think it will stand Rita."
"That sounds like a good plan. I didn't like the idea of your being on the 21st floor with no power."
Jenny calls:
"Hi. Where are you now?"
"We're still in Katy, but we're not on the interstate any longer."
"Where are you?" This sets off a lengthy conversation about back roads. I drag out my Texas county maps book and suggest a route through Fayetteville. Later I read that the few thousand people who followed that path had, like a swarm of locusts, stripped the small town bare of everything for sale.
Jenny calls. "Where are you now?" "We're back on I10. We're going 50MPH! We're not going to get off the interstate. I called my parents in San Antonio. We're going to stay there instead."
Mama calls. They are all set at Tiel Way. They have plenty to drink and food that doesn't need cooking. They have books to read and a small radio. Their cell phones are still working. All is fine. Besides, now it looks like the storm won't hit Houston at all. Mama's verdict: "This is going to be the biggest fizzle in history."
Tish calls from France. Her daughter is trapped on I45 on the way from Houston to Dallas. The police won't let any cars get off the freeway. Tish thinks this is unconscionable and wants to complain.
"Tish, I don't think anyone's going to pay attention to you. They're trying to get the other lanes of the freeway open. It's a mess."
"I want to complain anyway. Will you find a number I can call?"
I dutifully search the web and give her Governor Perry's number. She hangs up.
Another call from Jenny. "We are coming to Austin after all."
"Where are you now?"
"On state highway 71. We have a five car caravan, but we lost one when we got off the highway trying to buy gas. See if you can find us a place to buy gas."
I look up all the filling stations on highway 71 — the web is a great tool — and start calling around. I find a station in Smithville that has some gas. I try to get directions to the station. The phone is passed to the manager. "I have about 200 gallons of super-premium left, with 24 cars in line." I call Jenny back and tell her to keep going on 71. She suggests we try to find some gas and bring it to her. I think that's a waste of time, but Claire undertakes the mission. Ultimately she manages to locate two small cans, fills them with gas and waits for instructions on where to meet. Meanwhile, I arrange to borrow extra air mattresses from the neighbors and hope we have enough food for five carloads.
Two cars full of tired humans, Jenny, boyfriend Angel, and co-worker Vi, and one thoroughly spaced out cat arrive. The other three cars have pealed off to different locations in Austin. Linda takes one look at Rosie sitting placidly on the floor while The Min sniffs her suspiciously and hisses. "Rosie, you're busted." She turns to Jenny. "Your cat is stoned out of her gourd." Well,what would you do if you had a cat in a car for 18 hours?
I whip up some queso and we sit by the TV, happily munching food we don't normally allow ourselves to eat. By now, it is clear that Rita is not even going to honor us with some rain. ACL is definitely going to happen. I suggest we wait up until the storm makes landfall, but everyone is too tired.
Rita is blasting east Texas. The 2 million or so people who fled Houston are just beginning to realize that they went through hell for nothing. Everyone complains about how badly the evacuation was handled. W, still smarting from the criticism after Katrina plans to visit the area. Angel, a reporter for Dow-Jones, has left for yet another press conference. Vi sits on the couch logging onto the web using a stray signal from our clueless neighbor until I set her up with a password for our system. The day is sunny and very hot. Meteorologists on the TV have explained the phenomenon several times — it has something to do with air pressure from Rita — but no one seems to understand what they are talking about. All we know is that we are setting temperature records daily, and that ACL has chosen the wrong weekend yet again. Mama and Flo, tiring of the spartan conditions at Tiel Way have moved back to Four Leaf Towers, where the power is on. Officials outline the plan for people to return to Houston in stages, rather than all at once. This advice falls mostly on deaf ears, but apparently the return trip proves uneventful.
For months, the price of gasoline is higher the closer you get to Houston. Many Rita evacuees, and some Katrina twice-evacuees, decide Austin is a nice place to live. Linda meets several in her practice and hears tales that make our little adventure seem like a walk in the park. As I write this report, things are so normal that no one much talks about Rita anymore, except for those poor souls in East Texas, many of whom are still trying to put their lives back together.
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