FEMA Tale

This is a true story that happened after Katrina.

My brother-in-law offered his back yard as a FEMA trailer site for a friend of his. He thought it would be easy to install as he had kept a 40’ Airstream trailer on the same spot, complete with hookups, for several years. However, with FEMA, nothing is easy. This is his story.


First, FEMA had to inspect the site to make sure it was suitable for a trailer. M brother-in-law told them to be sure to call because he wasn’t on the property and the gate was locked. One day he got a call.

“We’re here.”

“Where?”

“At the gate to your back yard.”

“Well, I’m across the river so get a soft drink, smoke a cigarette and I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

When he arrived to let them in, he found not one, but two FEMA inspectors. Their only job was to measure the site to make sure the trailer would fit. Two guys, with only a tape measure! I guess there must be a FEMA job description somewhere for the guy holding the “dumb end” of the tape. But, then my brother-in-law already knew that it should be possible to fit a 34’ trailer on the site where a 40’ trailer had been. He asked them when the trailer would arrive.

“Couple of days or so.”

About a week and a half later he gets another call.

“We’re here.”

“Do you have the trailer?”, he asked.

"No, I’m just the escort. The trailer is on the highway.”

(That’s right. They had an escort for a camping trailer. Not a permit load. Not an oversized load. But a camping trailer that any bozo with a trailer hitch would be allowed to tow anywhere.)

So he goes back and opens the gate and the driver sets the trailer. Out of curiosity, my brother-in-law asked the driver how much he made. Turns out he makes a flat fee per trailer plus mileage to deliver it. For this one, his take was about $500. And that doesn’t include the escort guy. Now, this is a camping trailer. And almost everyone in South Louisiana has a pickup truck with a trailer hitch capable of hauling the thing. But our government feels it is necessary to pay people hundreds of dollars to deliver their trailers.

But the driver doesn’t do the hook up. And when will the guy be there to hook it up?

“Couple of days.”

As you have probably guessed, another week and a half goes by when he gets another call.

“We’re here to hook up that trailer.”

So he meets the guy and points out where to run the sewer hose and where to plug in the extension cord. (Remember, his personal trailer used this same site) But wait, FEMA says the plumbing must be hard piped and the electrical run in conduit. During that process, my brother-in-law has to tell the guy to re-locate the electrical meter because it will interfere with the push out section of the trailer. Then, the guy jacks the trailer off the ground, sets blocks under it and ties it down with hurricane straps.

OK, we know the thing may have to go through next hurricane season, but this is a trailer in a land where most people have pickup trucks with trailer hitches. If a hurricane is coming, doesn’t it make sense for the occupant to be able to hook up to the thing and tow it someplace safe instead of leaving it there to be destroyed?

When the hook up guy finishes, my brother-in-law asked him for the keys to check everything out.

“I don’t have the keys. Another guy will be here in a couple of days.”

Sure enough, about a week and a half later, the key guy shows up and everyone is happy and the tenant moves into his new FEMA supplied trailer. The plumbing hook up is so good that the first time he flushes the toilet, its contents is deposited on the grass.

That is why you can’t trust your life to FEMA.

Joads in a Jaguar, My Katrina Story

The week before Katrina hit I had oral surgery and was under the influence of some very nice pain killers. Therefore, I was oblivious to the weather reports in the week leading up to the storm. The afternoon of Friday, August 26, we were all blissfully going about our business secure in the knowledge that Hurricane Katrina was heading for the Florida Panhandle. Later that day the track took a drastic change to the west and it looked like it was headed for New Orleans. A period of denial set in and we waited to see if the track would change. (Our weather talking heads seemed to give us some hope that it would) By Saturday morning, it was clear that the track would not change and that we finally going to get our worst scenario hurricane. By now the storm was already inside my personal evacuation demarcation line. (The local phased evacuation plan required 72 hours to be put in effect. They now only had 50) I went to the bank, picked up clothes at the cleaners, put gas in the cars and hurriedly threw wood on the windows. Our daughter-in-law had made reservations in Houston but they were for Sunday. I called American Express and had reservations made for Saturday as well. My wife grabbed some favorite family photos. We then took her mother and one of our nieces (Mike's daughter - he is on the parish council and had to stay behind), packed them in my wife's Jaguar and headed to Houston feeling sure that we would enjoy a short holiday before returning home as we have done several times before.

We arrived in Houston at 9:00 PM Saturday and met up our son, his family and his in-laws. We spent Sunday watching a storm track that showed no intention of changing. I was up early on Monday morning and doing the math (If a hurricane is heading 360 degrees and it is 130 mile SE of your location, how close will it come?) in the hope that it would stay far enough east for us to miss the worst of the wind. By mid morning, we know that it hit Buras in full Category 4 strength. As there was nothing else to do, we took a family trip to the Houston Space Center, which our oldest grandson J loved.

On Tuesday, August 31, the first news reports are coming in from Biloxi and it was bad, real bad. Worse than Camille! However it looks like New Orleans did OK, until a levee broke and flooded the city. We take a trip to Old Town Spring to get our mind off of things. Brother-in-law Mike calls and tells us that our house only had minor roof damage and that Belle Chasse was dry. But now we hear about looting in the city. Mike tells us that Plaquemines Parish is locked down and no one is getting in - especially looters. It was this day that my wife took grandson J out to get some popcorn in the Embassy Suites lobby and our son had a breakdown when he couldn't find J in our hotel room and thinks he is lost - an indication of how much stress we all are under.

By Wednesday, the news crews are in New Orleans and showing the flooding, the looting and the misery at the Superdome. We move to Lake Charles as the casino wants our son to work out of the casino there and they are willing to provide rooms. It is surreal to be in a brand new casino hotel knowing that on the other side of the state a major disaster has occurred.

Thursday, September 1: Our 27th anniversary. We went shopping for some extra clothes as it is now clear that we could be gone for a few weeks instead of days. Bro-in-law Mike stopped on his way to Houston where he was going to escort a supply truck of relief supplies back to our town. New Orleans is stopping and diverting any supply truck that does not have an escort for themselves. Neighboring parishes get nothing unless they protect it. More reports of looting and shooting at rescue workers. We talk to my wife's sister, who is locked down at the West Jefferson Medical Center. They need a cordon of National Guard with armored vehicles to protect them from looters. Sheriff Harry Lee has blockaded the Greater New Orleans bridge to prevent looters, and everybody else, from coming over the river from Orleans Parish. His action will probably drive a wedge between inter-parish cooperation for years to come but will draw praise from residents of Jefferson Parish.

Friday, September 2: The casino wants to move us to some corporate apartments as they want the hotel rooms for Labor Day weekend. The apartment was a mess but we clean it up, go shopping and prepare to settle in for several weeks. But by Saturday, the CEO reneges on the apartment offer and wants our son back in Harvey to help clean up the casino there which is housing the electrical crews who are living in the parking lot. At lunch we have a spat with my wife's mother. We are going to Morgan City where our daughter-in-law's parents are using a relatives' empty house. My wifes's mother was told she will have to ride with stuff on her lap as the Jag was not designed to carry the amount of stuff we have. (The hotel gave us blankets, sheets and pillows and we have to take them with us to Morgan City.) She was not happy about being crammed in the car and the discussion escalated from there. At least the fights on this trip are inter-family and not with the in-law grandparents as in past evacuations.

(OK.... why, you ask, are you in the Jaguar with 4 people and their baggage and not the Durango? The answer is that we can afford to get another Durango but not a Jaguar. Therefore, the Jag was our primary evacuation vehicle.)

We are packed so tight in the Jag that passengers have to get into the vehicle and then I pack soft goods - pillows and blankets, etc. - around them. No need for seat belts - it's like riding in a big marshmallow. In order to deter any attempted car jackings, I have two hand guns within reach in the car. Both of them locked and loaded.

We are in Morgan City for Labor Day. The word is that there are car jackings still going on there so I always pack a gun when running errands. (In Louisiana, a car is considered an extension of your house and you are allowed to have a gun in your house)

Now that we are established with a kitchen and grocery stores, my wife does a little cooking. Our first home cooked meal in many days was crawfish etouffe. Another notable occurrence happened on September 7 when D, the middle grandson, lost his second tooth. And, yes, the tooth fairy can find you where ever you go.

The remainder of the week is spent waiting for Plaquemines Parish to open up again, which finally happened on September 11. The baggage was shifted to our son's car. He had returned for the weekend with his second vehicle and the Jag was stuffed with an ice chest and other groceries. Still tight but at least we could leave the pillows behind. Power was on at our house by Monday, September 12 and I was back in the office on the 14th.

Urban Archeology

Today I did some urban archeology. Unfortunately, the buildings had only been abandoned a little longer than 4 years. A group of us made a field trip to look at some buildings that are going to be demolished. It will be our job to write the specifications for the demolition work and to do so, we had to get some ground truth. This meant a sweaty couple of hours walking around in buildings that were trashed by Katrina and have not been all that water tight for the last four years. Its just one of the things that they never told you about in engineering school.

Thumb in the Dike, or in their A**?

On top of the levee wall stuffed with newspaper comes word of another leak near the 17th Street Canal. The Corps representative says: "I personally do not at all believe that this little wet spot is anything that is going to cause a breach or a failure of any kind."

He seems to forget that there was a sand eruption near this spot in the weeks before Katrina that indicated an underground flow of water. This may have weakened the wall which was sitting on top on inadequate sheet piles causing the breach.

Remember - The Corps is NOT your friend.

I offer the following song sung to the tune of "The House of the Rising Sun"

There was a house in New Orleans
It was gone with the Rising Sun
And it's now a ruin like many, many more
Stick a fork in me, I'm done

My mother said don’t go there
Don’t live south of I-10
The levees low and a storm’s gonna blow
And drown New Orleans again

It was built below the flood plane
On a slab of cold cement
And every time it rained too hard
We had to pitch a tent

------ organ solo ------

Oh mother tell your children
Not to do what I have done
Trust your lives to the Corps of Engineers
And levees built of mud.

Well, I got one foot on a ladder
The other foot in muck
I'm working down in New Orleans
Tearing out sheetrock

I had a house in New Orleans
It was gone with the Rising Sun
And it's now a ruin like many, many more
Stick a fork in me, I'm done

Shoddy Levee Construction

The local CBS affiliate has uncovered a bit of shoddy workmanship on levee walls protecting St. Bernard Parish. The contractor used newspaper as a filler in the gap between the water stop in the levee wall and the caulk used to seal the seam between the concrete sections. The Corps of Engineers maintains that this is acceptable even though it violates the their own specification. The filler is supposed to be sponge rubber.

This is just another example of the axiom, "You get what you inspect, not what you expect."

As an engineer with 30 years in the offshore industry, I've had to make temporary repairs. But you are always aware that what you did is temporary and at the same time you make plans to make it permanent at the first opportunity. And you make it known to management that the fix is not permanent. The Corps did none of that. This defect was going to sit there for the next 50 years, unseen and unknown, until the levee fails again in the next major storm to hit the area.

I hope there is a special place being saved in Hell for employees and contractors of the Corps of Engineers.

For the story, with video, go here.