My Katrina: Part 24

broken scene from Katrina.

Brett Mohar/Flickr

Previously: I helped load folks onto the helicopters, including a 400-pound woman, who had passed out from fear. It took eight of us to load her onto the copter. I was feeling shaky ‘bout it, not only the way everything be vibrating but also because my mind went back to the 80s when a plane crashed in New Orleans. I was more and more nervous. I know it comin’ to me next…
After they took around 120 projects folks—roughly one-third of project residents—we smokin’ cigarettes, sittin’ around talking, and playing cards. The wind was blowin’ so crazy. From the balcony, we watching trees falling and we see a big ole telephone pole go down.
I told the guard, “That hurricane is still here! If I wasn’t listenin’ to y’all, I’d be sneakin’ out, the way I’m prone to. But the way all them trees and that pole fallin’, I could be dead!”
I wanted to see more action. I knew more was goin’ on out there.
Otherwise it was a pretty quiet day. Next day, the same thing. Another 115 left on helicopters and boats. We were heading out—for real!
I overheard the guard sayin’ “We down to 110 people now.” That’s when I went to pieces—I was next to go. Tomorrow gonna be my day. I gotta pump myself up like I did all this time goin’ through Katrina. I tell myself, If they gotta take me by boat or helicopter I just want outta here.
But then the guard say, “Come with me. It time for y’all to be escorted out.”
I say, “Who me?”
The guard I been laughin’ with tell me, “Man you afraid to fly to the Convention Center? You still gonna have to fly again to get to the airport. And then to someplace far.”
I never been on a plane before. When I was in prison we be escorted in handuffs and shackles on greyhound busses and school busses.
The guard tell me again, “Today your lucky day. It’s your turn to roll out on the helicopter.”
When I hear that, honestly, my heart went to beatin’.
I was lookin’ at everyone else go, now it was my turn. I’m not afraid of heights, because when I was a kid I used to jump off roofs. I don’t know about you, but when I was young, y’know, we used to take mattresses and wrassle on them, jump off buildings on them. Sometimes without them.
The helicopter—it was on a hill and they put out like a ladder with a big ole board over it, so we wouldn’t slip off and get hurt. And we walk that plank into the helicopter.
On board, you stand up the whole time and they clamp a safety belt around your waist. I put a helmet on. After we being locked in, they come back and check to make sure you locked in good before the helicopter pull up.
The guard I been talking to say, “You ready buddy?”
I say, “I cant do nothing but be ready right now.” Then the heli pulled up in the air, and my stomach dropped. My heart dropped too. Like they both still on the ground.
Helicopter open, no door. Damn! I looked down, but I didn’t look too much down. I look side-eyed down. I wasn’t closing my eyes. I wanted to see what going on.
All you could see was big hard water waves, crashing into the Queen Boat and all them ferries.
Honestly I was really worried—maybe we have to jump. The helicopter controls might get stuck or something.
I was more afraid of crashing than of jumping. Remember I was a lifeguard and there be water everywhere. But you couldn’t tell which was the floodwater and which was the river.
Everything in my stomach move, but not as much as when I see what I see fifteen minutes later. (to be continued)


Issues |Weather


Region |Washington DC

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