Wednesday, September 21, 2005
10:00 AM - At work, we are called into a meeting for the sole purpose of briefing us on the logistics of shutting down the lab before the storm. It was made clear that analysts were expected to get all of the high priority samples run before Friday. There was little differentiation of essential personnel, but we were told that if we were planning on evacuating, we would not be penalized. I knew days ago that I was going to head to my parents home in Austin. This meeting assured me that I would be leaving that night.
12:00 PM - My lunch hour is spent getting a last minute oil change, and gathering a few supplies like tape and water.
1:00 PM - Returning to work, it is difficult to concentrate on tasks that I should be doing. In my head I run down my todo list repeatedly making sure I'm not forgetting anything.
5:00 PM - I finally finish up at work, securing documents and equipment in my office and head home, I've got a long night ahead of me. Once home, I cook dinner, pack the items i am planning on taking with us, tape up the windows and grab 45 winks before loading up and heading out.
10:00 PM - With the car loaded, we head out, down westheimer to 610. Absolutely no traffic. My gas tank is full, and I'm confident that we should have few problems on the road. I inform my family that we're on our way, and tell them to expect us around 8 in the morning. The trip normally takes 2.5 hours, I've heard that the roads are packed, so I expected it to take quite a bit longer. I was prepared for it, or so I thought.
10:30 PM - We've just made the 290/610 split. Traffic so far has been a little to light. There are a few cars, but few break lights. No indication that 1.5 million people are trying to leave the region.
10:35 PM - Coming over a hill, we come upon a sight which was more appropriate for the situation. Tail lights for miles. This is what I expected, I was prepared for it, patience was going to be the key here. I resolved myself not to panic, and to ride this out.
11:30 PM - Ten calls later, I'm beginning to answer the phone with the response that we've moved only 20 feet since the last time we talked. I realize that my family doesn't understand the magnitude of what we are involved in, but I am beginning to lose patience in the fact that they keep asking me what's the hold up. Frankly, I don't know what the hold up is, and the root cause at this point doesn't matter. I'm fine waiting it out.
11:50 PM - A lady on my left rolls down her window. She asks if we have any water, she'd be willing to pay. Having seen what the stores looked like last night, I can understand how they may not have been able to get any, so I pass a bottle through the window. I ask her where they're headed. She tells me College Station. I tell her we're off to Austin. We wish eachother luck, and bid eachother safety, and we disappear back into our private auto-universe. I've moved about an eighth of a mile, but its hard to tell.
Wow, Rita is gone. Like the whirlwind she created, she scared the hell out of us, brushed us with her presence, and slipped into the night. In the end, the city of Houston was left deflated with the expectation of devistation, and thankfully so. Our hearts go out to those who felt her wrath. Those towns and cities just to the east of us will be recovering for quite some time.
