First-Person: Fleeing from Hurricane Gustav

Three years ago, Katrina tore through New Orleans and Mississippi. In its wake, Katrina left behind billions of dollars of damage and thousands of lost lives, in what was the worst natural disaster in our nation's history. Now, the same people who have fought so hard to rebuild, prepare for another hurricane that threatens to destroy the city they love so much. Saturday night, New Orleans mayor, Ray Nagin, ordered a mandatory evacuation of the city and its surrounding parishes. I was one of those people evacuating the city.

Even though I live in St Louis, I was in New Orleans for the weekend. Thursday night we drove down to New Orleans even though we were acutely aware of the looming threat. Why? We were driving down to the city to attend my grandmother's funeral and honor her memory.

I took my 6-month-old son, my sister and my parents and we headed down to attend the services while we kept a watchful eye on the weather. We have been through this before, Katrina directly affected my grandparents and family, three years earlier. After Katrina dumped several feet of water in their house, my grandparents fought fiercely to rebuild their home of 41 years.

I prayed that Hurricane Gustav would turn away, so that we could honor the memory of my grandmother and grieve for her loss. After the services on Saturday morning, everyone kept watch as Hurricane Gustav headed for Cuba. Businesses boarded up and the I-10 was jam packed as early residents fled from impending destruction. Some gasoline stations closed down leaving hundreds of people to search and line up for gasoline at the few open ones. Wal-mart was buzzing with people stocking up on batteries, bottled water, and canned goods.

On Saturday they ordered the sale of liquor, guns, and bullets to be suspended as city officials attempted to prevent dangerous situations from forming. As we gathered together as a family to celebrate the life of my grandmother, our conversations shifted towards leaving town and getting to safety.

We decided to leave town Saturday evening and headed back towards St Louis, with our hearts heavy and our minds full of worry. How would my grandpa do with evacuating? Would my aunt and uncle make their flights? What about friends that swore they were not leaving? We rode in silence along the crowded freeway.

We passed cars packed full of priceless possessions and hundreds of tarp covered trucks and RV's. As we headed towards Jackson, Mississippi we listened on the radio as Mayor Nagin made his speech. As he warned of flooding worse than Katrina, my eyes filled with tears. How could we all go through this again? How could the city ever recover? He stated in no uncertain terms that this was the "mother of all storms" and that anyone who chose to stay behind would do so at their own risk. There would be no shelter of last resort, no rescue. There would be no public services, no emergency services.....you were on your own. In spite of his frank and honest warnings, there would still be hundreds of people who would not evacuate. I prayed for them and for their families.

All along the interstate, gas stations and Mc Donald's were packed with fleeing residents. As I stood in line for a Big Mac, dozens of people talked nervously on their cell phones, anxiously connecting with family and friends making sure of their safety. Babies cried in parking lots, tired from the traffic and the hours of driving. I overheard several people say in despair, " I don't think I can keep doing this!" We were all strangers, yet strangely enough we were all connected. WE were New Orleans, and we were scared.

My parents and I made it home safely and luckily so did my grandpa and aunts and uncles. Now we watch and wait as Hurricane Gustav hits the Louisiana coast and pray it spares the city and our homes. And deep inside of all of us echoes the same words over and over again; the looming question we all must answer: How long can we keep doing this?