My Katrina Story actually begins on Saturday, August 28th. By sunrise I was already headed for Lafayette. The catch is that I was not evacuating. \r\n \r\nUnaware of the increasing likelihood that that the storm was headed our way, I was on my way to the area\'s first-ever \"MechaCon\" - a convention for Anime fans. I wanted to get leads for our new SVOD service and my 13-year old daughter (Spanky) and her best friend are big Anime fans so they came along for the ride. By mid-afternoon the attention had turned from screening rooms and video displays to The Weather Channel and the NOAA website tracking. The Hilton hotel lobby was a hilarious mix of kids dressed up as Anime characters and families beginning to arrive for what they assumed would be a short evacuation stay. \r\n \r\nWe left Lafayette, headed for New Orleans hoping to get back by sunset to prepare for our \"real\" evacuation. Contra flow was already in effect so had to drove the length of Highway 61 from BR to NO. Headed in the opposite direction we saw dozens of miles of frustrated evacuees in near-standstill traffic.\r\n \r\nBy Sunday morning we were still trying to decide where to go and what to do. The later it got, the more it appeared that we were more likely to be sitting in traffic somewhere when the storm finally hit. I had already seen what the contra-flow looked like and dreaded the thought. Having grown up in Florida and weathered many hurricanes, my wife (Trixie) and I felt fairly well prepared to ride out the storm. We were right about the storm part, but forgot to factor in the possibility of a massive levee failure.\r\n \r\nThroughout the day we had been in contact with my friend Ron Hagelman who teaches geography at the University of New Orleans. Fortunately for us, Ron put his \"Dr. Hagelman- Ph.D.\" hat on and told me in no uncertain terms: \"GET OUT OF YOUR HOUSE. If you can\'t get out of the city, GO TO MY APARTMENT.\" Never one to question academia, I packed up our supplies and pets and relocated there for what we thought would be a 2-3 day retreat. As it turns out that building (The Park at Esplanade) was probably one of the safest places in the city.\r\n \r\nWe rode out the storm Sunday night. Very spectacular. Lots of rain. The way the winds (gusting at 100+ MPH) swirled in against the building creating some bizarre sideways tornados in the parking lot. Actually didn\'t lose power and water until 6AM.\r\n \r\nBy around noon on Monday the storm had passed enough that we were able to chance getting back to our house which was only about a half mile away. We dodged downed trees along Wisner to make it to Bancroft Drive. Our street was flooded, but there was no flooding in the house . Saw some roof damage on the north side, but overall, the house had weathered the storm pretty well. After about 30 minutes there we noticed the water outside had risen around 6 inches. Realizing something was wrong, we got back to the apartment.\r\n \r\nWe watched the water continue to rise all day Monday and Tuesday. It was painfully slow but constant. It finally peaked by Weds and we could notice the water actually started to ebb. We had high hopes that we would be able to drive out of there by the weekend. We had seen the news reports of the horrendous conditions at the Superdome and Convention Centers and knew that it would be insanity to go anywhere near either of those locations.\r\n \r\nAll the while there were around 170 people in the building. There was plenty food and water but we were not able to get any of the old folks out until Friday. Some of them were very sick bout mostly they were just old. Trixie, Spanky and I kept busy helping make people comfortable. I met a man by the name of Johnny Diebold who was a Jazz Singer with Al Hirt\'s band. He did radio all throughout the 1940\'s and \'50s. He had so many stories about the New Orleans music scene from the \'30\'s on up. All the names and places were lost on me. (I kept thinking that someone with a real interest in background in old jazz would be a much more appreciative audience) \r\n \r\nHe also told me something I will never forget. He said, \"You know, my last name is Diebold. Spelled, just like it sounds Die Bold. And I always said that I would do just that -- die bold. And this ain\'t it.\" He finally made it out of New Orleans to stay with a WWII buddy in Columbus Ohio.\r\n \r\nUnfortunately one resident of the apartments died. His name was Jack. I was with him when it happened. We were trying to get him across the street in a canoe then into a van to a field next to the New Orleans Museum of Art where he would be picked up by the evacuation helicopter. He insisted on walking the last few yards from the canoe to the van. He fell down and I helped struggle him to the curb to sit and catch his breath. At better than 83 years old he was just too frail to make the trip. He knew he had made it as far as he was going to go. I kept telling him \"It\'s OK.\" Finally, I could actually see him letting go. I was glad that he passed away while under a clear sunny sky and not in a molding empty building.\r\n \r\nThey told us we had to lay him at the side of the road. At my insistence he was brought to the entrance of City Park. I covered him with a green cloth and a properly folded American flag. When we saw him a couple of days later the green shroud had been replaced by the unfolded flag. Someone told me that Newsweek published the picture. It bothered me to think that someone may have changed the tableau (i.e. put the opened the flag and lay it over the body) just to \"get the shot.\" I think I\'m OK with it now that I understand that the picture might have had enough emotional impact to jar those with the ability to help out of complacency.\r\n \r\nBy Friday night there were only around a dozen or so people left in the building. The water was still going down and we still thought we might be able to drive out of there by Sunday. \r\n \r\nWe spent all day Saturday resting and watching the water slowly recede. Late in the afternoon we were surprised by someone running down the hall yelling, \"The National Guard is here and we have to get out of the building NOW.\" They had also said that no pets and we should expect that they would be taken and euthanized. We knew all along that this was a possibility but we were not ready for it to happen. We decided to wait until Sunday.\r\n \r\nWe spent all night Saturday crying and hugging each other after we came to the realization that we were going to have to sacrifice the pets in order for us to be safe. We resolved that we would get up the next morning, change into a clean set of clothes, have a big breakfast of MRES (Meals Ready to Eat issued by the military), and head out to the Landing Zone by NOMA. And that\'s just what we did.\r\n \r\nWhen we got to the meadow by the museum, it was like a day in the park. I let the dogs run loose and they had a great time being off the leash. The Army Reserve officer who was at the LZ told us the dogs would have to stay. We said we knew that and had accepted it. After about an hour of waiting a helicopter landed and we lined up to get on the helicopter. The Guardsman had to hold Meeko from following us and Mirabeau wandered away in her normal oblivious style. I got in after Trixie and Spanky. As we were getting set to take off, one of the crew members leaned over to Trixie and asked \"Do you want to take your dogs with you?\" I don\'t have to tell you how quickly our outlook turned from despair to pure joy! Meeko jumped aboard with no hesitation. Mirabeau had to be bodily dragged into the chopper.\r\n \r\nFlying over Lakeview and into Jefferson Parish I was reminded of the scene in The Wizard of Oz where the picture turns from black-and-white to color. The contrast at the 17th street canal was just that stark.\r\n \r\nTen minutes later we were at the New Orleans Airport. Not a lot of confusion, but definitely a lot of activity in confined space and in a short span of time. We directed through metal detectors, then one line, then another. Finally we arrived at a boarding gate where we\'re told, \" See that line for that plane over there? That\'s the plane you\'ll be getting on in 10 minutes. We\'ll tell you where it\'s going when we are in the air.\"\r\n \r\nNot wanting to risk winding up in Peoria or some strange city with no friends and no family, we casually stepped aside and called in the Cox Cavalry. I knew we had people in the field nearby. Most of Jefferson Parish did not flood so there was plenty of activity there. The workers at the airport said nobody would ever get through security at the airport. I reached Director of Engineering Bob Reddington and within 10 minutes we were picked up in the Arriving Flights area by a Cox Van with MTC Supervisor Tom Freeman at the wheel. I have never been happier to see a familiar face. We went straight to the MTC where we soaked up a week\'s worth of air-conditioning and cold water. \r\n \r\nAfter a while, Mike Latino got us up to Baton Rouge where Cox had me set up with a hotel room. It was great! You could flush the toilets and everything! They even had running water! I tell you it was paradise. I didn\'t realize how conditioned into \"survivor mode\" I had been for the previous 7 days. Greg Bicket tells me I was grinning like a madman when I headed over to the hotel. I must have been a sight. The first really clean shirt I wore into civilization was a Cox shirt that Donny Arseneaux wrangled from somewhere. \r\n \r\nFrom Baton Rouge my sister, Joan, picked us up in a monster SUV and brought us to the safety of Gainesville, Florida -- my original hometown. The trek across Middle-Mississippi was pretty hairy with gas shortages and rationing. I have family in the area and the Cox- North Florida system was there to greet me with open arms and warm wishes. I was able to play PPV guy for a couple of weeks, but could think of nothing other than getting back to New Orleans. After it was finally time to come back home, my Cox-Gainesville friends sent me on my way with a van full of Gatorade, water and supplies. (We\'re all secretly hoping the Gatorade will make Gators out of these LSU fans)\r\n \r\nI came back to a nearly totaled house and a wrecked city. And I was honestly glad to be here. \r\n \r\nThis is point where my Katrina story now merges with that of all of my co-workers, neighbors and friends who have returned to \"Rebuild a Greater New Orleans.\" We are now a part of a bigger story that will be written in the history books. The same faith that sustained us all through our travails will sustain us through the months and years head. Our individual stories will serve as prelude to that story, not as epitaph.