As we know, Hurricane Katrina hit near New Orleans, LA on Monday morning. Just about the same time I was planning on driving through the area from Los Angeles, CA on my way to Florida on I-10E. I couldn't go any further than Texas, as all East-bound traffic on the I-10 was redirected West. I stopped at my relatives house near Houston, TX for 2 days as I waited for news of the dammage. It wasn't long till I heard the bridge was out on I-10, I would have to find another route to Florida. I decided to take a more northern path, 100 miles further North, on I-20.
I filled-up with gas somewhere in Louisiana and drove blissfully into Mississippi, thinking I had gone far enough North to avoid any Katrina damage. Boy, was I wrong. The entire state of Mississippi had no power. That meant there were no hotels, no food, and no gas. If you must know, the gas pumps run on electrical power, no power, no pumps to draw the gas from the underground tanks to fill your tank.
I got about 60 miles into Mississippi when I was getting low on gas and decided to fill-up. I hit exit ramp after exit ramp, all with the same conditions: no power, no gas. After about the 6th exit of nothing, I finally stopped my search on exit 77 on I-20E. I don't remember the name of the town. There were other travellers there was well. I got there about 5pm, some had been there since 11am. We were all in the same boat, less than 1/4 tank of gas, and no idea what to do, or what was going on. We had little to drink and less to eat.
Some had relatives travelling from North Carolina, bringing gas with them, to fill the empty tanks to allow travel to at least Alabama where gas was rumored to be. Others had relatives that lived close enough to drive out and pick them up, leaving their cars behind for another day. I was totally stuck. I didn't expect anyone to drive to get me, as they would have ended up in the same situation. I accepted the fact that I and my son were stranded, and the best thing to do was to sit tight, try to get some sleep and see what would happen in the morning.
As we sat around in the pitch-blackness of the evening, the odor of close-by chicken farms wafted over us. If you have never smelled this treat, consider yourself lucky! I suppose if the smell was constant, one could get used to it, but it wasn't constant, and I never got used to it. We talked as cars pulled into the gas station we were at, all with the same questions, "Where can we get some gas?" We told them all the same thing, "We don't know, we've decided to wait it out here till morning." Everyone thanked us and drove off into the night to try their luck.
Around 11pm, an undercover police cruiser drove through the lot, but did not stop. The sight of this car lifted everyone's spirits, hoping for some news. As we gathered, it made another pass and slowed. When it finally stoped, we learned it was not an offical car, rather something one of the locals had purchased at auction. Ours spirits rapidly deflated, only to be lifted up again after the man started telling us of the surrounding conditions. No power, gas or food. Things were reported to stay this was for several weeks, but there were rumors of gas just down the road on the next exit, about 10 miles down the road.
We all thanked the man and debated out options. My son and I was the only travellers willing to risk the drive. I figured I could drive the 10 miles. Worse case, I would still be sleeping at a gas station unable to pump gas, only with different people than what I had met at this gas station. We said our good-byes and good-lucks, and headed off down the highway to the next exit to a small town called Forrest. We found the gas station, and felt lucky that the lines were not as long as some had estimated back at the other location. I managed to get inline behind 8 other vehicles.
It was interesting to watch as some trucks would pull up to an unused pump to fill with diesel fuel, being it was the only type of fuel available at that particular pump. It would start a frenzy of cars positioning to form new lines, only to disband when finding out it was only for diesel fuel and not gas.
I also watched as the people in my line filled a car, then red jugs for gas. People would yell into the night, "Save some gas for the rest of us!" and "Limit yourself, think of the rest of us!". Anyway, the gas flowed, and the line moved. I soon found myself waiting behind only one car, I was next! Then I hear the man at the pump, "Uh-oh!? The pump stoped... I think the gas is out."
I couldn't believe my luck. I wait in line this whole time, only to get shafted by my 9th place position in line. I quickly begin replaying my debate at the last location. If I had just shut-up 5 minutes earlier, I might have been in front of this man! Everyone crowded around the man, his car and the pump. I think everyone was collectively trying to wish more gas into the underground tanks. The pump had indicated that the man had only pumped 8 gallons of medium-grade gas. We encouraged him to try the regular gas. He swiped his card again and the display on the pump flashed' "Please see attendant." There was no attendant. Some people with cash could not get any gas, the machine only worked with debit or credit cards. Back to the situation, the man apologized to us and drove off.
Not willing to give up all hope, I pulled my car up to the pump, swiped my card, read the pump display and followed instructions. It is a routine we all do every time we fill up. I'm sure most of us have the actions memorized and can do it by rote. But this time, I took a little extra care, paid a little more attention, made my actions and little more deliberate. I figured if the regular grade gas was out, maybe there was still fuel in the premium grade storage tank. I made my selection and squeezed the pump handle.
The pump hiccuped in my hand, sputtered, and began to pump gas, though it was erratic. The first gallon out of the nozzle took a very long time, perhaps 10 seconds. I was thinking to myself that I only needed 5 gallons... 10 gallons would be great, but 5 will do... no, 3 gallons will do. Yes, I could get down the road another 45 miles if I could just squeeze out 3 gallons! The display clicked away, 3 gallons, 5 gallons, 10 gallons! I was excited, I thought I would get a full tank, around 18 gallons. The people huddled around the pump sighed in releif, thinking they were going to get gas too.
Then the pump handle jumped and clicked shut. I glanced at the display: 11.2 gallons. I squeezed the handle, nothing happend. I looked at everyone around me and told them I think this pump is dry now. I did as the man before me did, I made my apologies while tightening my gas cap, and getting in my car. I again said my good-byes and good-lucks and drove on. When I glanced at my gauge, it registered that my tank was indeed full, beyond "F". I suppose the pump was out of calibration, and did not indicate the actual amount that was pumped. I hoped it was the case, and others were as lucky as I was.
I continued down I-20E and into Alabama, then decided to take a more direct route to Florida by taking the 80E to I-65S to Meridian. There I caught the 231S all the way to I-10E in the Florida panhandle. As I write this, I am about 100 miles north of Orlando on I-75S. I had to stop to get some rest, and the hotel I am at had free "high-speed" internet access. It has allowed me to write the above. I will give updates as I am able. I have no idea what route I will take on my return to Los Angeles, nor what I will encounter.
