Fine, we evacuated. Stupid hurricane. By Saturday, our mayor was screaming for everyone to get out and I found myself curled up on the bathroom floor in the fetal position having flashbacks of Katrina and wondering why we didn't move after the flood. Oh yeah, that's right, NO ONE WILL BUY OUR HOUSE.
We packed up 2 dogs, 1 kid and multiple suitcases into our compact car and decided to meet my sister in Huntsville, AL. Huntsville is 440 miles from New Orleans, It took us 16 hours to get there. We cried, we ate all our car food, we cursed the governor of MS for closing I-10 East, we considered turning around many times but once contraflow is in place, you can't get off the highway, we peed on the side of the road, I changed my kid's diaper on the front seat of a moving car, I held my kid on my lap in the front seat of a moving car, and fianlly, after having many, many Brittney Spears moments, we got to the Westin in Huntsville, AL. We ended up at the Westin because they accept pets. And when I tell you it was a beautiful hotel, my, my, it was embarassing to walk our 16 year old dog whose fur and skin are flaking off at an alarming rate, through the pristine lobby. But, just like Brit, our money spends just as well as the well-heeled guests.
From there, we moved to a Raddison to be closer to my sister. And then when our husbads went home to check on the houses, we took the kids down to Point Clear, AL to the Grand Hotel and Resort. Ahhhhh. I did not want to come home to New Orleans...ever.
But, we did. And $1500 later, our mandatory evacuation is over. I am smoking again, the baby who worked so hard to break the pacifier habit, is in full relapse mode, and the dogs are shaking in their boots every time we walk out to the car.
Business as usual in the Big Easy.