I lived in New Orleans for several years and know it well. It is part of me, and I left a few pieces of myself there. It’s a ghostly city and when I die, if I have a moveable spirit, I will get on the Mystery Train and go haunt New Orleans. Look for me in the gaslit flame at Café Lafitte in Exile. Don’t get too close. Fire on the bayou. Be that as it may, I watched in horror as Katrina engulfed the Gulf in bright orange on satellite photos, and I thought about my little condo at ground level, and the framed reverse glass paintings inside on the wall. I thought about it as I watched television here in my home in unhaunted San Diego County where I reside.
In San Diego we have just been through an ordeal with fires that began with a devil wind, the Santa Ana. The Mighty Wurlitzer, the horrid organ that plays arpeggios of untruth at full volume, will tell you that all New Orleans had to do during Katrina was act more like San Diego. I’m here to tell you that this ordeal was not like Katrina-- not even close—and that these comparisons, pushed by Reichwingers are inapt, inaccurate and a continued slap at the citizens of a major American city, New Orleans. I do not wish to minimize the tragedy in San Diego, but, San Diego you don’t know how bad it can get.
In the wake of Katrina, I did not know if my friends were dead or alive. Almost 80% of the city was flooded. I had a New Orleans cell phone number at the time. Although I was in California, my cell phone was inoperable. No communications were going into or out of New Orleans. No water, food, or medicine moved into New Orleans. People gathered in the Superdome. It was 90 plus degrees. Satellite photos showed water right up to the curb of the street in front of my condominium. Abut 1,500 homes have been lost in San Diego. Over 275,000 homes were destroyed in Katrina. I don’t know how many of these homes were in New Orleans, but I personally toured New Orleans three weeks after Katrina. It was a dangerous place to be. As we entered the City, we passed under downed live power lines, and over thousands of nails embedded in boards from houses that had been torn apart and cast to the four winds. Buildings were poised to fall. The city was largely empty, except for the military. Everywhere you looked was devastation. Entire neighborhoods were abandoned.
In San Diego, 500,000 were evacuated, the AP reports. Where did they go? Well, if they are like my friends, they went to hotels in San Diego, or took the opportunity to go to Palm Springs or Las Vegas. They charged it, knowing that they had just earned a few more miles on their Hawaiian Airlines credit cards. On the way, they stopped at Trader Joe’s to get some Brie and bottled water, and maybe a crusty rosemary batard. Less than 20,000 went to evacuation centers (as far as I can tell). Those evacuation centers were well run, and well provided. It was in the mid-70’s in the coastal evacuation centers. If you wanted to, you could drive up in your Audi A6, and drop off a few hundred bottles of water that you picked up at Costco on your way over.
In New Orleans, you could hardly get to the Superdome by helicopter. The entire surrounding area was under several feet of water. An entire city was destroyed before our eyes. Most of it still lays in ruins.
Oh, I don’t want to give you the impression this has been pleasant. It has not. People have been prevented from going to work. It is been very smoky and that has brought tears to my eyes. My two Dalmatians haven’t been for a walk in days. My Passat has a layer of ash on it. But I knew Katrina, Katrina came to my house, Katrina had her way with my neighborhood, and friends, and this was no Katrina. Thank heavens.