Tropical Storm Allison

Tropical Storm Allison sprang up suddenly in the Gulf of Mexico, relatively close to the Texas coast. Fortunately, the storm appeared small and compact and considered to be of little danger to the coastal communities. Heavy rains were expected, perhaps some gusty winds, but the anticipation was the storm would move on shore and quickly progress to the north, with a minimum of damage to the area. On Tuesday, June 5^th, Allison came ashore and dumped heavy rains along the coast southwest of Houston. Allison then continued on a northerly course until the center was located just north of Houston.

During the following Wednesday and Thursday, the storm stalled and the center began wobbling in a north-to-south-to-north fashion. The storm caused some heavy rains in some spots to the north and northeast of Houston, and in some areas to the south, but nothing to raise serious concerns about. On Wednesday morning, a portion of the beltway was flooded from an overflowing bayou, causing me, and others, to take an extensive detour to get to our destinations. There had been some homes flooded, and some cars stalled out in high water, but mostly the people took it in stride and considered it only slightly abnormal. By Thursday evening, there were some cautions concerning streams and creeks beginning to rise, with the possibility of flooding along low-lying areas.

-Friday, June 8, 2001-

On Friday, June 8^th, Bobbie called me at the office, about 4p.m., and advised that some serious rain and possible winds were approaching the area from the north. Allison was wobbling again, and the resulting rain should last only a few hours. Bobbie said she would be at the parking garage, if she were not home when I arrived from work. Just before leaving work, about 5p.m., I checked the weather radar and determined most of the rain still remained north of Intercontinental Airport (the area where I worked), and any rain in our residential area should be neither overly heavy nor last for very long. These determinations were based on the behavior Allison had portrayed the previous days of moving south then north again. This pattern had caused heavy rains south of Houston, to the east into Louisianna, and then north around the center of the storm.

I left the office about 5p.m. and drove home in moderate rain. The closer to home I got, the harder the rain became. I arrived home, and found Bobbie was gone. I went to the parking garage, located on the west side of the neighborhood along I-10, where I-10 crosses Greens Bayou on the east side of Houston. Since the tree fell on both the car and the house in May, 1999, we have frequently used this parking garage as a shelter during severe weather. The parking garage provides two levels of parking, a ground floor and one upper floor, for patrons of the professional office building which it serves. This office building is directly across the street (Westmont) from, and west of, the East Houston Regional Medical Center (formerly known as Columbia East Houston as well as other names over the years, but commonly called “the hospital”). The professional building also sits on the east bank of Greens Bayou, maybe 100 yards from the normal water line. On the east side of the hospital is our house, sitting at the top of a “hill”, or at least a good rise, above the surrounding area, and is normally high and dry even during periods of heavy rain and high water.

Anyway, I arrived at the parking garage shortly after 5:30p.m. to find Bobbie there. She was with a friend visiting from New Orleans, Dixie. We waited in the garage for the rain to stop, it would often slack up then start pouring again very heavily, such as is usual with tropical disturbances. About 6:30p.m., Dixie decided she would like to leave and go to her mother’s home, where she was staying during her weekend visit. Bobbie did not wish to go out in the rain, so I drove Dixie back to our house where she had left her car. While there, I picked up the emergency television, and some other odds and ends to make us comfortable while we waited out the rain for a few more hours.

Upon returning to the parking garage, we turned on the tv, which was full of weather information, to hear the rains should be decreasing as the evening progressed and the air temperatures dropped. Since it was a little past dinner time, but a Friday night, we decided to wait for the rain to slack up and then go to a nearby café for dinner, anticipating that to be about 8p.m. However, it was not unitl about 9p.m. that the rains started to dramatically decrease, and it was too late to go out to dinner. We went home, Bobbie fixed the ham steak she had originally planned for dinner, and added some eggs and toast to complete the impromptu meal. After we ate, we watched the 10p.m. news, which was dominated by the rains produced by Allison. The weather radar indicated diminishing rains, but there was a spot in our area that concerned us, moving south to north from the Pasadena side of the ship channel.

We decided we should return to the parking garage until the spot of concern had moved through our area; we expected to be gone about an hour, at most. In anticipation of only a short stay at the parking garage, we made minimum preparations. We did not take any of the animals (we normally take the dog and both cats), we did not take any type of bedding (such as blankets and pillows), we did not take any medications, food, water, extra clothing, or any other type of comforts. We did not take Bobbie’s car (we have always taken both cars in the past), which we left parked in the driveway as close to the house as possible (the usual parking place). We arrived at the parking garage shortly after 11p.m., where we were greeted by the security guard just starting the graveyard shift. We explained our situation, which she (the security guard) understood, and she was very glad to have some company on such a rainy evening, when she is usually very much alone.

-Saturday, June 9, 2001-

Around midnight, when we had expected to be home in bed, the bad news started coming from the tv weathermen. The entire storm system had began moving south again. The hours of rain that had already drenched our area was about to reverse course and drench us again. With the storm moving southward, and drawing the moisture from the Gulf, the rains began to intensify. The farther south the storm moved, the more we were placed in the northeast quadrant of the disturbance, the most violent portion of tropical weather systems. In retrospect, had we really thought about what was happening, we may have been able to take some actions that might have prevented some headaches and distress later. However, we were confident that once the rains quit, we would be on our way home to a comfortable bed, just a few hours later than we had originally planned.

The rain came down relentlessly. We watched from the car as the torrential rain and wind both fell and blew in all directions. Visibility, at times, appeared to be only a few hundred feet. We were able to see I-10 in front of the hospital, immediately before crossing Greens Bayou; at times it was very difficult to see the billboards and cars, which were only a couple of hundred yards away. There were great flashes of lightening, so bright the street lights would turn-off, adding an even drearier feeling to the already uncomfortable atmosphere. Then great crashes of thunder would drown out the howl of the wind and the knashing of the rain, sometimes so loud it was startling, even when it was expected.

The television was no comfort either. The weather radar continued to show massive amounts of rain for a large portion of our area, with more to come as the storm pulled warm moist air from the Gulf. More and more frequently, the flood watches and warnings were issued, mostly for the south side, but some for the north of Houston. As well, one of the noted news reporters, Wayne Dolcefino, was spending the night at a gas station just on the other side of Greens Bayou from us, only about a half of mile away. Throughout the night, Wayne kept the viewers and us informed of the heavy rains, gusty winds, and street flooding. He even interviewed victims whose cars had stalled in the intersections, and were quickly filling with water. Bobbie and I joked about attempting to make our way to the gas station and spending the night with the news crew, a thought we dismissed just as quickly as it came.

The south end of the parking garage actually faces I-10, and sits just a few feet from the I-10 westbound service road. At this point, the service road splits to form two routes, one up and over Greens Bayou and continues on westbound, the other route descends below the Greens Bayou bridge to bank level of the bayou, and forms a U-Turn to the eastbound service road. This U-Turn has historically flooded rather rapidly during periods of heavy rain, and usually accumulates about two feet of water. Most often this is a deterrent to traffic, and most cars will back out of the U-Turn to find an alternate route. Therefore it is a rather common site to see cars driving in reverse along this section of the service road, during heavy rains and light flooding. As Bobbie and I watched the downpour, there would be traffic attempting to get to and through the U-Turn. There were a couple of pick-up trucks that did not return, but most cars would make the attempt only to back out and continue on down the westbound service road. This indicated to us that the U-Turn was “flooded again”, but again it was business as usual, was fully expected, and did not stimulate any great concern.

About 1a.m., water began rising in the parking garage. The drains appeared to be filled to capacity, the torrential rain kept adding gallons of water by the minute, and apparently the water just had no place to drain. Watching the water rise was a rather unsettling feeling, but it was not rising very fast, and we were parked in an area that was still dry. As the water continued to rise, both Bobbie and I became more uncomfortable about it, but there did not seem to be any immediate danger. The security guard still had her car parked at the same place (right next to ours), and she did not seem overly concerned about the rising water. Although afterwards, I found out she had worked at this garage only a couple of months and had no real experience with either heavy rainfall or flooding in the area. A couple of times we moved the car to a dryer area as the water approached us. We eventually ran out of dry spaces which began to cause real concern that the car might be “trapped”. The best we could see through the darkness and pouring rain indicated the street was flooded, and the only way out may be to walk (that is wade) out. This was a most disconcerting feeling, but we were not in trouble yet and felt confident that we were as safe as we could get for the moment.

On the east end of the hospital, along the I-10 westbound service road, sits the Interstate Motor Lodge. One of those cheap (I mean inexpensive) trucker motels, the kind that advertises rooms for $39 a night, but only has one room at that price. The motel (as we often call it, sometimes with other adjectives attached) is in the block across the street from our house, but is behind the residence directly opposite from us. The motel sits on land at a much lower elevation than our homes, adjacent to Goodyear Creek, a main drainage easement between our neighborhood and Greens Bayou. The motel has been known to flood frequently, sometimes as high as the second floor rooms, and still the owner continues to remodel, rebuild, and repair the damages.

Shortly after 2a.m., a white pickup truck with a man, a woman, and two young children, pulled into the parking garage. The man stopped to talk to the security guard briefly, then turned the truck around and left. Bobbie remarked that the family must be out sightseeing in the bad weather, and perhaps not only was it a bad idea, but it was certainly too late for children to be out. The security guard informed us that the family had been sleeping at the motel, and had been awakened and forced to leave by the rising water. Feeling a little unsafe at ground level, the family had decided to park on the upper level of the garage to wait out the storm. We did not see them anymore after that. But now we knew the motel was flooding to the point that the patrons had been forced out. Again, this was considered pretty common, and did not present any real threat to us. The water was still slowly rising in the parking garage, the rain was still falling by the bucket full, the wind was gusting, the lightening was flashing and the thunder crashing as loudly as we have ever heard it. We were fully preoccupied with the situation at hand, and the motel flooding seemed like a remote event of little or no concern.

With the water rising in the parking garage, the heavy rains, gusting wind, lightening and thunder all around, we sat in the car taking it all in. We were tired, the emotional stress was having an impact, the minutes seemed like hours, and the hours did not seem to pass at all. We thought about our pets, our dog (Whisk) is terrified of thunder and lightening. We wondered how she was taking all of this; the cats had probably found a snug place to hide, and were just biding their time. The television attempted to keep us informed of the latest events, however the storm kept most of the reporters inside, and the bulk of the news was weather radar and predictions of what might happen next. Most of the tv news crews were trapped at the office, they had not been able go home and the relief crews had not been able to get to work. It was obvious that the long night and bad weather was effecting the on-air personalities. Occasionally a reporter would call the station from home and attempt to provide details of the conditions in their area. Even one of the weather forecasters (I mean meteorologists) called in from home to provide his insight on what the storm might do next. Still, the storm was moving slowly to the south and continued to draw moisture from the Gulf, then promptly dropping it on us.

Sometime after 2a.m. some really bad news came from the tv, the Channel 11 studios were starting to flood. Up until now, there had been only a few pictures of the storm’s fury, mostly of a reporter standing just outside of the studio, in the rain and wind, describing the nearby street flooding. But now there came pictures of people working to save electronic equipment and documents while wading through hallways and offices at least ankle deep in water. The Channel 11 on-air personnel announced they must evacuate the building immediately, and would terminate their storm coverage until the situation was under control. This was an undeniable event indicating things were really getting bad, with no end yet in sight. Channel 11 did stop broadcasting live coverage, but were able to continuously broadcast the weather radar providing some information about the storm’s whereabouts and movement. I don’t know exactly when Channel 11 began broadcasting again, but it seemed to be a relatively short time before they began requesting volunteers with pumps to assist with pumping the water out of the studios. Due to the storm and flooding, even the willing and capable volunteers were unable to respond.

So we sat, jumping from tv channel to tv channel hoping to get a glimpse of some good news, there just didn’t seem to be any. Then suddenly, maybe about 4a.m., the rain appeared to lighten up some, we rationalized that it must be our imagination. The water in the parking garage began to drain and recede, certainly an inspiration to us that not all was lost. We were unable to see clearly in the dark, but we could definitely tell that the hospital parking lot was completely flooded, we just could not tell how deep. We were pretty certain the water level was high enough to enter the office building located just across the street from us, but again we couldn’t tell exactly how deep. The traffic along I-10 had become virtually non-existent with the exception of an occasional 18-wheeler plowing slowly through the water, and sometimes not so slowly. The rain continued to diminish for a few minutes until it was just a steady rain, much of the wind had calmed down, and the thunder and lightening began to be farther and farther away.

Within about 30 minutes, or so, maybe around 4:30 or 4:45a.m., a sheriff’s boat (that’s right, boat) came slowly down the westbound service road of I-10. One man was in front with a paddle, testing the water’s depth. Another man was driving, slowly manuevering the boat down the service road in no particular hurry. They came within a hundred yards, or so, of the parking garage and discovered the water to be too shallow to continue. This was somewhat encouraging to us. The boat turned around, and went back eastbound along the service road, and then out of sight. Within a few minutes, a sheriff’s pickup truck towing the boat drove slowly down the service road. This was certainly good news to us, the service road appeared to be draining. The sheriffs stopped to examine the U-Turn at the bayou, they launched the boat again and disappeared into the darkness, leaving the pickup parked on the bridge over the bayou. They may have been searching for flooded vehicles and possibly stranded drivers in need of rescue, although the U-Turn was so full of water by this time that it would have certainly covered any vehicles there may have been. It was not long before the boat reappeared, was mounted on the trailer, and the sheriffs drove off to the west. This all was considered to be good news for us.

By 6a.m., as daylight was just beginning to appear, the rain had slackened to be an intermittent drizzle, with occasional outbursts of steady rain every so often. The water in the parking garage had completely drained. We could now see the hospital parking lot was completely flooded, and the office building had certainly taken in some water. With the daylight, things began to look a lot better than they had in the stormy darkness. We were certainly tired, and in need of sleep, but the daylight had risen our spirits such that we felt quite refreshed. The security guard was becoming a little anxious about whether her relief would show up on time, at 7a.m., so she could go home and get some sleep. In general, we were all feeling very optimistic after such a nerve racking night.

We were getting hungry, and discussed the possibility of getting home to the animals and food. About 6:30a.m., we decided to attempt to go home. We first tried to drive across the hospital parking lot, knowing there would be high, dry land on the other side. But as we entered the parking lot, we realized the water was still too high for comfort. We could plainly see flooded vehicles in the lot, belonging to staff and visitors unable to leave due to the storm. We rationalized that the water was draining, and would probably be down to a safe level soon. In the meantime, we decided to drive back into the neighborhood and then go find breakfast and coffee somewhere along Uvalde Road, the prime business district in our neighborhood.

Probably the first glimpse of the seriousness of the situation came as we drove along Westmont to the intersection with Candlewick street, the street that runs behind the hospital and then curves up hill to run along the side of our house. This street was completely underwater for as far as we could see. Although serious, there wasn’t much concern. A public drainage easement crosses the lowest portion of Candlewick, and has been known to flood briefly during heavy rains. And, we could not see around the curve to determine just how far the water did go, but we knew our house would certainly be above the water line. However, we were able to see that at least one house near the drainage easement had a considerable amount of water in it.

Passing Candlewick street, next came Laguna street, it was not flooded so we turned there to be able to see more of the area directly behind the hospital. As we approached Appian Way street, which connects Laguna and Candlewick streets at the drainage easement, we were shocked at the height of the water. Several of the homes directly along the drainage easement had been flooded to several feet. We continued down Laguna to Cimarron street, the main street through the residential area. Just to the south of the Laguna-Cimarron intersection, there is a low-water crossing, a continuation of the drainage easement which starts at the hospital. This low-water crossing was so full the bridge rails could not be seen. We could not even consider crossing this area in anything other than a boat.

We turned north on to Cimarron, which runs parallel with Uvalde Road. At the south end of the neighborhood, Goodyear Creek flows between Cimarron and Uvalde. Farther north in the neighborhood, the creek dwindles to a small drainage ditch and disappears altogether, leaving only residential blocks between Cimarron and Uvalde. After getting a few blocks north, into the neighborhood, we were able to turn on a street that was clear to Uvalde. Arriving at Uvalde, we found considerable traffic, and many signs of high water, which had already drained away.

We decided our best option for both breakfast and restrooms was probably McDonald’s, assuming they were open for business. We drove down Uvalde to our local McDonald’s, which was open, much to our delight; the drive-thru window had quite a long line. We parked, went inside and straight to the restrooms. We then went to the counter to order breakfast. There were only a couple of people in line ahead of us, and the service seemed to be pretty fast. Looking around, I realized there were only three employees in the building. Apparently these three were left over from the night shift, and had not yet been relieved by the day shift.

One employee, a lady, probably the night shift supervisor was on the telephone. She was apparently attempting to convince some other employee to come to work. She made several such phone calls within a few minutes. The line was becoming longer as more customers arrived; we had already ordered, and was only waiting for our food. The lady employee suddenly hung up the phone in desparation and said, “wait on these customers, then we’re closing up.” Fortunately we were quickly served our breakfast along with that famously hot McDonald’s coffee, and we were on our way.

We felt it would be in our best interests to fill the car with gas. We had several gallons, but we had also run the car all night to provide air conditioning, and power for the tv, but mostly for the air conditioning. And we did not know what the day, or night either, had in store for us. We found a station that was on high ground, and it had just been built and opened, so we felt that at least the underground tanks should be clean and secure. Of course, being a new business in the neighborhood, the attendant did not know us, and therefore refused to accept a (perfectly good) check for the gas. So to avoid expending a major portion of our cash on hand, we opted to get only some gas, enough to deal with any immediate gasoline requirement that might arise.

We made our way back through the neighborhood, ever more amazed at the number of homes that had flooded. But, again, these homes were along drainage easements and the bayou, areas where flooding had occurred before. Although, the depth of the flood was unusual, the properties being flooded was not.

When we reached the parking garage, the first thought was to attempt driving through the hospital parking lot to home. That thought was quickly squelched as we realized the water was now rising, not receding as we had observed less than an hour earlier. The parking lot was definitely not driveable. I looked toward I-10 to check the water level there. To my amazement, the water was rushing out of the U-Turn, on to the service road, which had already overflowed into the parking lot.

“That’s bad news,” I told Bobbie, “the bayou is overflowing.” We parked in the parking garage, on the ground level. The security guard was nowhere to be found, although her car was still in the same place. We did not know whether she had gotten a ride from someone, or if she had gone to the hospital, or maybe even on an upper floor of the professional building. We sat in the car, eating our breakfast, discussing our options of what to do next. The rain had quit completely, and others were attempting to get to I-10 by using Westmont, only to find out the service road was flooded.

Bobbie was needing to take medicine, which was at the house, so we decided we should attempt to wade through the parking lot to home. We left the car parked on the ground floor of the parking garage, rolled up our pants, took the necessities we needed, and started slowly across the parking lot for home. The going was slow, water above our knees, really above the knees on Bobbie. As we waded in front of the office building, a look inside clearly revealed several inches of water inside. It appeared the water may have been much higher earlier, as plants and chairs were thrown about as if they had been floating for some time before the water receded.

The area all around us was flooded. A small convenience store sits on the I-10 service road, next to the motel, and across Rockglen from the hospital. A mini-van was parked in front of the store, with only the roof barely visible above the water. The store’s gas pumps were completely underwater, one could not even tell they were there. A van was parked next to the store, along Rockglen, which had already flooded to the windows.

We progressed, ever so slowly, until we were in front of the main entrance to the hospital, only about a block from the parking garage. Although the main doors were closed and blocked by flood gates, an emergency exit door, to the side, was open so we went in. The ground floor of the hospital had been thoroughly flooded, the water was still well over our ankles as we shuffled through the halls to the Emergency Room, the entrance closest to our house.

When we reached the Emergency Room, the entrance had a flood gate in place. The fire department and Coast Guard were evacuating patients by boat to a parking lot farther east, on the I-10 service road. That parking lot apparently had enough dry area to land helicopters for transporting the patients to other area hospitals. There were two ambulances parked outside of the Emergency Room entrance, both completely flooded and useless. We climbed over the flood wall, again into knee-deep water, and began the wade up hill to the house. Upon exiting the parking lot, we were in only ankle-deep water and our property appeared to be dry. We practically ran the last few yards to the front door, fully relieved that our home had remained safe and sound.

After getting into the house, the animals were most pleased to see us. The dog, Whisk, trembled and whined in her joy that we were finally home. It must have been a terrifying night for her, especially with the intense thundering that had occurred. The cats were quite grateful to know that they had not been abandoned either. We carefully inspected everything to determine that there really had not been any damage, from either water or wind. The water was currently at the bottom of our driveway, along the side of the house. There was no water in the street immediately in front of the house. The water had not risen enough to even threaten Bobbie’s car, we were certainly grateful.

We then started checking in with our neighbors. Our neighbor across the street to the south, Chris, is on property that backs up to the motel, the flooding motel. We were concerned he might get water from that direction.

“It came up close to the air conditioner, but didn’t make it all the way, “ Chris told us. The properties on each side of him appeared to get water very close to the house, but not in the house. He also said “the street in front of the house had been covered with water, but it went down early this morning.”

We were feeling better and better about the situation. The neighbor across the street to the east, Jim, said he had been up most of the night, but had not had any water threatening his home. However, a neighbor down the hill, along the drainage easement on Candlewick, had had about a foot of water in their house. They were now living in their camping trailer, parked next to the house, but about a foot higher than the house.

But, then we noticed the water was rising again, slowly but surely. We began to discuss our options again. There was no way we could get Bobbie’s car out, my car was still parked on the ground floor of the parking garage, a situation I did not particularly like. We thought maybe we should just pack some things and wade back to my car, then leave for a safer location until the water had subsided. We quickly dismissed that option, because it would have been extremely difficult, at best, to get a dog and two cats through the water to my car. We were not willing to leave the animals again. I marked the current water line, so we could determine how quickly the water was rising. We then decided that I should go back to my car and move it to the second floor of the parking garage, if at all possible, then wade back to the house.

Gathering up anything I might need, I then started the wade back across the hospital parking lot, in near waist-deep water by now. Staying as close as possible to the buildings allowed me to walk on the curb and grass, about six inches less water to wade through. However, there was a lot more debris to contend with as the water had washed boards, trash, and who-knows-what up next to the building. At any rate, after about ten minutes of wading the two, or so, blocks, I arrived at the parking garage. There was the security guard, out directing traffic (that is, telling everyone to turn around because everything was flooded). My car was still dry, although the water surrounding the garage had risen, and appeared to be rising still. I moved my car up to the upper level of the parking garage, along with several others with the same idea. I then waded the ten minutes back home without any incident.

It was now about 10a.m., we were very exhausted. With the prospect of another long night, we knew we needed some sleep. We basically came to the conclusion that we were going to stay home for the duration. We decided to sleep in shifts, Bobbie would sleep for a couple of hours, and then I would sleep. This way we could keep an eye on everything, get some sleep, and hopefully be prepared for whatever was to come that night. Just to insure we were awakened in time, Bobbie called a couple of friends and asked them to call us around 1p.m., a wake-up call. Bobbie attempted to get some sleep, I went back to the tv news coverage.

The tv stations now had helicopters in the air, for those fantastic aerial pictures, and the helicopters weren’t hampered by flooded streets and roads. This was the first chance for us to see what was happening across the rest of the city. I saw the flooded 18-wheelers on I-10 at T.C. Jester, across town from us. I watched as the helicopters flew over our neighborhood, focusing on the closed I-10, the flooded motel, and of course, the flooded hospital. There were some great pictures of the Coast Guard helicopter rescuing patrons from the roof of the La Quinta motel, just a few miles down I-10 from us. Right next to the La Quinta is a Garden Ridge Pottery store, was a Target store until recently, but there were rescues of people stranded in cars in the parking lot, which was now seriously flooded. By now, the weather forecasters were attempting to predict what we should expect the rest of the day and that night. Unfortunately, they were predicting another ten inches of rain for that evening. It seemed the more tv I watched, the less sleep Bobbie got. Finally, she got up and said “she had things to do.”

The water was still rising, and Bobbie adopted the approach that if we were going to stay, we had better be prepared for the worst. Feeling certain that the rising water would force us to turn-off the electricity at some point, or we would lose electricity for other reasons, we started planning to be without electricity for at least some period overnight. We pulled out the emergency supplies kit, we always keep a well-stocked emergency kit during hurricane season (Hurrican Alicia in ’83 taught us that). We assembled the flashlights, tested the batteries, piled up the candles, located matches and sterno, and attempted to become as organized as possible. Bobbie started collecting can goods and other non-perishibles in preparation of being without gas as well as electricity.

We began raising furniture off the floor, packing keepsakes and placing them high in the closets, and attempting to elevate as much stuff as possible. We stored pictures, CDs, knick-knacks, and books as high as possible, along with other important documents. We firmly believed that if we were to flood, it would not be very deep. After all, the flood plain in our area levels at fifteen feet above sea level, and the slab of our house is at fifteen feet, eight inches. How could we possibly flood? And even if we did, it couldn’t be by much, a few inches maybe. Still, this was not very comforting to Bobbie, who said “if the house gets an inch, it is still flooded.”

We worked frantically through the afternoon, storing as much as possible as high as possible, occasionally checking the water level (which was still rising), and constantly monitoring the tv news for anything hopeful. At about 3p.m., the tv was still forecasting another ten inches of rain, the water had reached the rear tires of Bobbie’s car, well into the yard. As a precaution, I turned-off the electricity to the air conditioning unit as the water approached it. The backyard appeared as a lake, continuing into the street, and had already started flooding some of the higher homes in the area. Bobbie started to talk about leaving. If we were to leave, we needed to start acting quickly to get everything, and everyone, coordinated. Bobbie said it was time to reconsider, and we should probably leave as soon as possible.

I wasn’t thoroughly convinced that we should leave. We had already made preparations with the intent of staying, why change plans now? Then Bobbie impressed upon me the situation at hand, the water is getting critically high, another ten inches of rain is a real possibility, the loss of electricity either intentional or not was imminent. We would be in a house without power, without air conditioning, with three animals, in the midst of a downpour, during hours of darkness, with no escape route. The potential misery of the long dark hours between midnight and daylight, without even an emergency tv for news (it had been left in my car). I realized then that evacuation was probably a better idea. Bobbie got on the phone to Carla and Libra, the kids, and planned out the escape. We would get someone to take us out in a boat, and the sons-in-law, Kevin and Daryll, will meet us at high ground, to take us home with them.

Although, the patients from the hospital had been evacuated, and the police, fire department, and Coast Guard had all disappeared, there were a couple of men with an airboat doing evacuations. Chris, our neighbor, had been in his front yard most of the day, watching the happenings. Bobbie told Chris to flag down the airboat the next time it came by, and ask him to take us across the low-water crossing on Cimarron to higher ground.

Within a few minutes, the airboat came by, Chris flagged him down, and Bobbie went running out to it. In just a few minutes Bobbie came running back into the house, out of breath, but grinning.

“He said he would take us and our animals!” she said, panting. “I asked him if he would take our animals out. And he said he wouldn’t leave his animals behind either. He said he had to evacuate someone else, but he would be back in about fifteen minutes.” Now the plan was starting to develop, Bobbie called back the kids, instructed them to where we would be, and to bring two vehicles for transporting the animals. And oh yes, someone had to go to Wal-Mart to get things we would not be able to carry out Then once we were out, there had to be some plans for dinner, let the kids figure it out.

I pulled out the cages, two small ones for the cats and a large one for the dog. Bobbie started packing bags with clothes, toiletries, pet food, and who knows what else. We were each going over checklists in our heads, trying to make sure the most important things were handled. Getting the cats into the cages was a feat in itself, neither one of them are particularly fond of a cage. A few minutes later, a man came running up to the front door, banged on the door and yelled “airboat will be here in five minutes,” and then ran off. I, myself, never saw the guy, just heard him.

“Are we ready?” I asked Bobbie. “Ready for me to turn-off the electricity?” I asked, trying to remember everything that must be done before we leave.

“Yes,” she said, then “No, wait. Let me check one more time”, she said as she walked through the house, looking into each room. “Okay,” she finally said, “go for it”.

I went out to the back of the house to turn-off the electricity. The entire backyard was covered with water. The birdbath was at least a foot under water, the four foot chainlink fence along one side of the yard was completely under water. The water level had reached the front tires of Bobbie’s car, sitting on a slant in the driveway; the water was about two inches up on the rear tires. I had never seen so much water so close to the house before.

I went back inside. We immediately started taking our stuff to the front porch to wait for the airboat. I set the cages, with animals, out on the sidewalk. Just then the airboat came roaring up with such a loud noise it was ear shattering.

“That noise isn’t going to go over well with the animals, “ I said to Bobbie as the boat pulled into our front yard.

The boat had two guys, one driving, and a younger one helping people in whatever needed to be done. He, the younger one, came off the boat and started helping to put the animal cages onboard. The boat had a wide, flat shelf over the bow; this was where we first set the cages. Once Bobbie and I were in the boat and seated, she took one of the cat cages, Tango’s, in her lap; I took the other cat, Velvet, in my lap (both cats still in cages). We left Whisk’s cage sitting on the bow, and the young man was standing between Bobbie and I, holding the cage in place. Thusly situated, the driver backed the boat out of the yard and turned down the street, all with an abundance of noise.

We went slowly down the street, actually up the street. Just a short way from our house, the street has a little rise, mostly from asphalt patches applied over the years. At this point, the street surface was out of the water, so the boat was manuevered into a yard along the street. Still, the water was pretty shallow and the driver was having some difficulty making any headway across the sidewalk and lawn.

“Its going to get loud,” the driver shouted over the roar of the engine. He then throttled up the engine with such a sudden and loud jolt that it startled all of us, even being warned about it. Tango, the cat Bobbie was holding in her lap, immediately broke the plastic latches on his cage and attempted to escape. Bobbie quickly grapped him, which caused him to promptly bite her, and simultaneously she was yelling for me to get Tango. Being a little far away to be of much assistance, I was only able to reach over and grab Tango’s head and force him back into the cage with only one hand. The young guy holding Whisk’s cage, let go of the cage to grab Tango, I grabbed Whisk’s cage with my other (free?) hand. The guy then reached down and grabbed the canvas bag sitting at Bobbie’s feet (one of ‘em with our clothes in it) and used one end of it to block Tango’s cage door, to keep him in. Bobbie then was able to readjust her hold on the cage, I was able to get my hand out of the cage, and Bobbie firmly held the canvas bag over the cage door (which was now laying inside of the cage with Tango poised on top of it). Meanwhile, the driver had throttled back on the engine and was coasting along until we were able to get things under control. All in all, Bobbie got a couple of scratches, the guy got a couple of scratches, and I may have gotten a scratch or two. In any event it was better than seeing Tango spring from his cage and into the water, no telling what would have happened after that.

With Tango under control, Whisk’s cage being firmly held in place by both me and the other guy, and Velvet’s cage sitting in my lap, we went on along the street in a flooded front yard. When the street had water high enough to support the boat, the driver steered back into the middle of the street. I was amazed at the water level. Along the low-water crossing, homes on both sides were filled with water to the roof. The bridge over the crossing could not be seen as we crossed over it. Cimarron street rose out of the low-water crossing about a half of a block south of the Laguna street intersection. There were a lot of people standing around, some just sightseers and others looking for friends and relatives that may still have been trapped by the flood waters. Some people were attempting to salvage items from their flooded homes. Fortunately for us, Kevin and Daryll were right there waiting for us.

As the airboat coasted up to the water’s edge, Kevin and Daryll approached the boat to pull it up to the dry street. Bobbie promptly stood up, handed Tango’s cage, canvas bag and all, to Kevin and shouted above the still load engine, “Take Tango, he’s trying to get out. Carefull, the cage door is broken!”.

Kevin took the cage and headed for his truck. Daryll and I lifted Whisk’s cage off of the boat and onto the dry street, then I went back to the boat to get Velvet and the other canvas bag.

Bobbie was talking to the airboat driver, saying “What’s your name? Give me your phone number.”

“You won’t remember it,” the driver shouted over the engine.

“Yes I will,” Bobbie shouted back. “Give it to me, I’ll remember it”.

The driver yelled his phone number, and Bobbie started memorizing it immediately. She kept repeating it to herself all the way to the truck, where she fished out pen and paper from her purse and wrote down the number. Relieved, she grinned and said, “I’ll send him a thank you note”.

We loaded up the animals in the back of Kevin’s truck, Tango was up front in the cab. Bobbie and I climbed in the back next to Whisk and Velvet, Daryll sat up front with Kevin, and we started out of the neighborhood. Daryll had parked his truck on Uvalde and rode in to get us with Kevin, so now we had to get back to Daryll’s truck to split up between the two vehicles.

Bobbie and I had not been out in the neighborhood since early that morning, around 7a.m., when we had gotten breakfast. The ride through the neighborhood seemed very eery, almost foreign. There were people everywhere, some working to save flooded property, volunteers helping, friends and families picking up flood victims (like us), and some just watching. Many homes were flooded, the water was higher than anyone remembered.

When we finally got to Uvalde, we had to go south and cross a drainage easement, which normally runs under Uvalde. The drainage easement had completely overflowed, flooding Uvalde to impassable, except to the bravest with the heartiest of vehicles. I looked over the cab of the truck, at the flooded street, and thought to myself, “there must be a better way”.

But Kevin wasn’t daunted a bit, he pulled to the center of the road to get two tires up on the median. Then he downshifted, stepped on the gas, and headed directly into the flood waters. Without a second’s hesitation, he kept right on going, down the center of the street, half on and half off the median. Then the median ended, at an intersection where the water was just beginning to become shallower. Kevin added a little pressure to the gas, turned off of the median and more toward the street, and went right on up the hill until we were out of the water. Daryll’s truck was parked just a block past the high water, now I know why Daryll had decided to park there.

We pulled up next to Daryll’s truck, and got out to shift things around. The traffic on Uvalde was horrible. The flooded street had backed up traffic to I-10, which was closed at Uvalde. Everyone being forced off of I-10 was looking for a way around the flooded highway, only to find flooded streets. The streets off of Uvalde to the west were flooded by Goodyear Creek. The streets to the east were passable, but completely jammed up with traffic.

We took Whisk out of her cage; her and Bobbie got in Daryll’s truck. I took Velvet and rode with Kevin and Tango, who had now decided his cage was the best place to be, and was comfortably stretched out in it (lying on top of the door, of course). So off we went to Kevin and Carla’s place, over in Pasadena, south of the ship channel.

Kevin and Carla were awaiting their new house to be built. So in the meantime they are living in a corporate style hotel. The kind that provides hotel convenience, minus a little of the hospitality, to company employees requiring temporary accomodations, all at an economical (for a hotel) rate. Anyway that’s how we (Bobbie and I) came to be in posession of Tango. Tango is actually Kevin and Carla’s cat, but the hotel does not allow pets, so we are cat-sitting until the house is built.

Well now, the plans for the evening were Bobbie and I, along with the animals, would stay at Kevin and Carla’s hotel room. Then Kevin and Carla would stay with Daryll and Libra. Sometime between our arrival at the hotel, and Kevin and Carla’s arrival at Daryll and Libra’s, we were all to meet somewhere for dinner. So here we show up at the hotel, four people, in two trucks, with three pets and two canvas bags, and proceed to unload and carry all of this upstairs to the room.

Of course, once inside the room, the dog had to go back outside, immediately. I guess the trauma of the airboat ride, as well as the truck ride, had put a little strain on her. I took her out, and then had to carry her back up the stairs, since she completely refused to climb them. Now, we had to arrange the animals such that Tango and Whisk are seperated, they don’t get along too well just yet. Velvet will tolerate Tango, but would prefer he were locked up. We decided to put Tango in Whisk’s big cage, and let Whisk and Velvet run loose in the room.

Carla finally showed up with the items we (may have) needed from Wal-mart. Of course she bought plenty of soap, shampoo, conditioner, toothpaste, and who knows what else. She also had bought two cat-litter pans, and the cat litter for them. We had to set up two litter pans, because Velvet does not like another cat to use her pan. We unpacked our canvas bags to discover that both Bobbie and I had packed pet food. We had enough pet food to last for days, while we had not brought any food for ourselves.

Once we got everything situated and under control, we decided it was time for dinner. Daryll left to go get Libra and the kids, Tyler and Morgan; and would meet us at the restaurant later. Kevin, Carla, Bobbie, and I all took off for the restaurant. But, since Bobbie and I were “treating”, we needed some cash, so we stopped at the nearest bank to use the ATM. Bad idea, the ATM was not working. Okay then, down the street to the convenience store to use their ATM. Wrong, that ATM was out of service as well. Apparently, all of the ATMs were inoperable. Now here we were, money in the bank, ATM card in hand, no way of getting cash. Kevin to the rescue. The only one that had prepared for a cash shortage, and he kindly cashed a check for us. What better banking service could you ask for? And off we went to dinner, and to see the grandkids, too.

After dinner, Bobbie and I went back to the hotel, Kevin and Carla went to Daryll and Libra’s, and Daryll and Libra just went home. Carla left us her car to use, and they had taken Kevin’s truck. We were very tired. We had not been to bed since Friday morning. After getting the animals settled down for the night, we lay down to watch television for awhile. The news was devestating, the Medical Center had flooded, hospitals all over town were closed. There were reports of heroic rescues, and horrifying deaths. The area had been declared a “disaster”, and Red Cross volunteers were feverishly trying to meet the needs of homeless flood victims. The National Guard had been activated to assist with rescues, setup shelters, and provide emergency medical treatment, they were scheduled to show up sometime Sunday. The mayor made announcements about the assistance from FEMA, and other government agencies, that would be arriving within days, as opposed to weeks. The city was in turmoil, the newspaper claimed 17,000 people were flooded out of their homes. The television stations often estimated 30,000, or more, people were without homes. We fell asleep, watching the news, and wondering about our home, but all safe and sound.

-Sunday, June 10, 2001-

Bobbie woke up first, about 7a.m., and then got me up, so we could go eat breakfast. We took care of the animals, fed them, and seperated them again. We went to one of Bobbie’s favorite restuarants, Kelley’s, to have a full breakfast. The people in the restaurant talked about their flood experience. Some had been flooded out, others had friends or relatives affected, and everyone was sympathetic. We had a good breakfast, and then went back to the hotel.

Bobbie attempted to call our neighbor, Chris. He did not answer, but the answering machine did. This was kind of good news, it meant the phone was working and there was electricity. But we still did not know about Chris, or our house. Bobbie then called Jim, our other neighbor. He answered.

“Did you flood?” Bobbie asked.

“No,” Jim said, “but it did come close”.

“Did our house get any water?” Bobbie asked.

“I don’t think so,” Jim replied. He then quickly added, “I have been watching all night. I didn’t see any water up on your house.”

“Has the water gone down? Can we get in yet?” Bobbie asked, a little anxiously.

“No, you can’t get in yet,” said Jim, “the water is still too high all around us, and I-10 is still closed, according to the tv.”

We were glad that apparently our house had not flooded. But, still we were a little skeptical. After all, could Jim have really seen the water level in the dark? One of my biggest concerns about turning off the electricity was loosing the outside lights overnight. And, we had closed the driveway gates before we left, meaning Jim would not have been able to see into our backyard, or see Bobbie’s car, or see how high the water was in the driveway. We didn’t want to ponder on all of the bad things that might have happened, so instead we rationalized that Jim was closer to the situation than we were, and he certainly had first hand knowledge.

Shortly after talking to Jim, while Bobbie and I were getting ready to head for our neighborhood, Carla called. She asked if we wanted coffee. I told her we had already had breakfast, and were on our way to see our house. She said they were just down the street from the hotel, and would be there in a minute with fresh coffee, we should wait.

Within a few minutes, Kevin and Carla arrived with coffee and breakfast snacks. They had already been to the neighborhood. The water was still too high for them to get to our house, I-10 was still closed, and many homes were still flooded with feet of water. They both tried to convince us that there was nothing we could do to get to the house, therefore we should just wait until later, after the water had gone down. Needless to say, Bobbie and I did not take their advice, and we headed off to see the condition of our neighborhood, with hopes of getting to the house.

Approaching the Uvalde Road exit on I-10, we learned that all westbound I-10 traffic was being forced to exit at Uvalde, and find their own way westward, or turn around, or to just sit and wait for the freeway to be reopened. We exited the freeway at the exit before Uvalde, Freeport Street, and drove the service road to Uvalde. The service road west of Uvalde was closed, so we could not get to the house that way. We turned on to Uvalde, which was very crowded with traffic, and drove north to determine if we could get into the neighborhood from another direction. Much to our pleasure, the flooding across Uvalde had receded considerably, although there was still some water across the street.

We were able to enter the neighborhood from Uvalde, drove over to Cimarron, and headed down Cimarron street toward our house. As we approached the low-water crossing on Cimarron, the one we had crossed in an airboat Saturday afternoon, we found it to still be extremely flooded and impassable. We went farther back into the neighborhood to Westmont street, hoping to be able to cross the hospital parking lot to the house. As we drove down Westmont our hopes were beginning to rise, there were plenty of people out and about, giving us encouragement that we might be able to get through.

As we approached the parking garage, we really became excited at the possibility of not only getting to the house, but we could also get my car. But when we got to the hospital parking lot, our hopes began to drop, it was obvious the water was still too deep to drive through. Then suddenly we spotted Jim, our neighbor, riding through the water on his four-wheeler. We yelled at him to get his attention, he saw us and came over to the car.

“Is the water going down?” Bobbie asked him.

“Yes,” Jim replied, “but it is still too deep to get through. I had to drive up along the building to stay in water shallow enough to keep the engine dry.”

“Did you have a chance to see if our house had gotten any water overnight?” we asked.

“I don’t think you got any water,” he said. “About two o’clock thismorning I was getting pretty anxious because the water was approaching our front door. I kept looking at your house thinking that if your house floods, then mine certainly will. But by about four o’clock, I could see the water was really going down, and I breathed a sigh of relief. I think we are really lucky compared to some of our neighbors.”

“Do you know anything about Chris?,” we asked.

“No, not really,” Jim said, “I think he was able to get out late yesterday afternoon. He isn’t home now, but I don’t know where he went.”

We felt much better now, having seen Jim alive, well, and actually driving the four-wheeler through the water. Certainly all we had to do was wait for the water to recede, and then getting to the house should be simple.

“I’ve got find an open store,” Jim said, “I need a chew real bad, I’ve been having a nicotine fit since ‘bout midnight,” he said and drove off in search of an open store to buy some chewing tobacco.

We went to the second level of the parking garage to check on my car, and to be able to see a larger portion of the surrounding area. Greens Bayou was completely out of its banks, still flowing freely across parts of I-10. There were a couple of workers with heavy equipment attempting to clear the layers of bayou mud from the freeway in the areas the water had already receded from. The hospital was still flooded, and completely closed by now with only abandoned (and flooded) cars in the parking lot. The store and the motel were still flooded and appeared they would be for a while. Looking over the area from the parking garage was like looking out on a vast lake, or even an ocean. The water was everywhere, at depths never before witnessed. Others at the garage were also gazing at the phenomen with awe.

We drove back through the neighborhood to see how our neighbors were fairing. Back toward the north end of Westmont, Greens Bayou was still flowing out of the banks and into the subdivision. Many homes were flooded to the roof. There were still many rescues taking place by boat, as some residents had no choice but to evacuate. We checked other areas of the neighborhood and found most residents had fortunately escaped any damage. Primarily the homes along Greens Bayou, and homes around the drainage easements at the south end of the subdivision were the most damaged. However, the damages to individual homeowners were catastrophic, in most cases.

We weren’t able to get to our house, so we went back to the parking garage and picked up my car. We then went back to Kevin’s and Carla’s where we spent the afternoon watching the news and napping.

About 4 o’clock, we decided to we should attempt to go home again. Bobbie and I got in the car and drove back to the neighborhood. This time, I-10 had been opened past Uvalde, but was still closed several miles closer to downtown. We were still unable to reach the house from the I-10 service road, so we went down Uvalde and entered the neighborhood from the back. We went directly to the hospital parking lot, along Westmont. The water was down. There was a thick, mushy layer of mud all over the parking lot, but we felt we could drive across it. As we drove across the parking lot, expecting water to loom ahead of us at any time, we were pleasantly pleased to see the water had completely drained away. We were just as displeased to see the horrible, smelly bayou mud that covered everything.

As we pulled out of the parking lot on to Rockglen, the street was still flooded along the I-10 service road with several feet of water, but the street in front of our house was dry. We rounded the corner and pulled into the driveway. I opened the gates, and quickly looked for any damage, there did not appear to be any. Bobbie’s car appeared to have remained dry, with only a water line about halfway up the front tires. Although there was considerable debris in the street and front yard, the closed gates had kept it from washing up into the backyard. As well, the gates also kept things in our yard from washing away, things such as the garbage cans, the kids’ balls, and other toys.

Everything looked fine, no damage at all. We went to the front door and noticed water had been on the front porch. We became a little concerned then. I unlocked the front door and knelt to feel the carpet.

“Dry as a bone,” I said, extremely pleased. And it was, we quickly inspected the floors and walls for signs of water, but there were none. We breathed a big sigh of relief. I went to the playroom, the lowest part of the house (because it used to be a breezeway between the house and the garage, and the slab is considerably lower than the house), to check for any water. The tile floor was completely dry. Both Bobbie and I remarked about how lucky we were not to get any water, even in the lowest part of the house. Then I stepped on one of the throw rugs lying on the floor, and squish. The rug was completely satuarated with water. There was another rug lying on the floor, also thoroughly soaked.

We started investigating the walls and furniture for water damage. The only signs we could find indicated that maybe as much as an inch of water had gotten in. But now everything was dry. Apparently the rugs had soaked up all the water. Since we had diligently attempted to get everything up off of the floors before we left on Saturday, we could not explain why the rugs were still down. Bobbie said she had meant to pick them up, but had just forgotten during the frenzy of packing and leaving. Evidently it was a good thing. After taking the drenched rugs outside, I vacuumed up less than a gallon of water, most of which had dripped from the rugs while were getting them out.