Into the City, Part II

On our way downtown, we saw a mass of black smoke billowing in the sky near Tulane University. Troops lined the roads and we stopped near the fire and made our way through the rescue crews who were in the process of loading boats on the banks of the now flooded streets. Helicopters flew over, dumping huge buckets on the blaze. We came to the end of our road, impassable by truck or foot, some three blocks from where the three-story structure burned away. Watching the smoke lingering high in the sky, we sighed and pushed on to our next assignment.

Darkness started filling the skies and the curfew to exit the city was almost upon us, We still had our story to shoot and made our way through the cluttered streets towards Harrah's Casino. As we entered the darkened roads, we began to see the makeshift communities where the displaced residents of New Orleans had struggled to survive for the past week. Convention Center Boulevard was lined with chairs, mattresses, shopping carts, and debris, with scattered piles covered with blankets that likely hid many of the unattended deceased. It looked like a war zone. It looked like Sarajevo. It reminded me of the film "Escape from New York," and I told Wayne it was like getting off the wrong exit in Dallas.

We shot our story at Harrah's, where proud civilians had reentered the city to help feed the famished crews. Steaks, hamburgers, hot dogs, and much more were being cooked on huge grills feeding grateful troops, police, firefighters, and other rescue workers. We had to shoot quickly as the sun had fallen beyond the New Orleans skyline meaning the curfew was now in effect, and we still had a long drive back to Baton Rouge.

We hit the road and passed the checkpoint into Jefferson Parish where we had spent many hours earlier trying to get through. Police were turning away families and residents who didn't have to proper identification to enter. Those turned away lined the shoulder of the westbound lane, tailgaiting and awaiting the chance to reenter their communities so they could check their homes and attempt to try and reconstruct their lives.

It was a truly sad sight, yet for me, the day was an eye-opening experience. The devastation that one sees on television pales in comparison to what you witness firsthand. The hardships and emotional strain placed on these poor people of Louisiana makes the problems in one's own life seem so unimportant.

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