Well, I really did not think I would be doing this, but as I live near downtown Houston, and I have chosen not to leave, I'll share the last day or two, and the next day or two (as power permits).
Wednesday
Left the office normal time (4:30 pm. You think that's early, right? Not if you show up at 6 am). Take the Westpark tollway into town to avoid the freeways. Take a quick shortcut and I'm at Central Market. One of, if not the premier grocery store in the city.
Now this place is pretty popular. I'm a regular and I know what a weekday looks like. I know what a weekend looks like (suburban tourist paradise). And Sunday morning at 10 am.
Well, this Wednesday afternoon (4:45pm) was deader than Sunday morning. I was pretty shocked. All through the store were pallets of water at very reasonable prices. I loaded up 6 gallons and grabbed a lot of non-perishable foodstuffs. The meat and seafood guys were begging for attention.
I was fully planning to go in to work Thursday morning untilI got the call to not bother. Now this is serious. Time for preparations. Making the list and making an inventory of assets, I knew we would be OK. Plenty of non-perishables, an abundance of water, and an adequate supply of insect repellant. Looter repellant too.
So Wednesday night I'm watching the news to get the latest details of the hurricane and the Jet Blue saga unfolds. I'm watching Fox News and throughout the entire landing I wanted to throttle every Fox talking head. They had a previous head of the National Transportation Safety Bureau on and HE was dumbfounded by the idiotic questions he was being pestered with as this dramatic situation unfolded. As soon as I saw the situation I told the Mrs. "Burn off fuel, land as slow as possible and keep the nose up on the roll as long as possible to bleed energy. Only at that time do you make contact with the front gear".
The television discussion came to fuel dumping. The question (I believe by Alan Colmes) was to the effect "how do you know how much fuel to dump and how much fuel to keep?" There was silence on the TV as the former NTSB director contemplated such and ignorant question, but there was no silence in my house. I was shouting at the screen "IT'S FRIGGIN' CALCULATED YOU FRIGGIN' MORON! AND PROVEN IN FLIGHT TESTS! AND APROVED BY CERTIFYING AUTHORITIES YOU JACKASS!"
Thursday started a bit better. A bit of an anxious day. Extra coffee was a bad idea this morning. Makes you even more anxious. But lots to do. Mrs. Oilman locates more candles, lighters, beer, wine, and ice. Good woman.
Financial records and critical computer files backed up on the portable hard drive. Check.
Really important stuff emailed to the office. Check.
Aquariums cleaned, water changed and prepared for a week of no power. Check.
Interior digital photos taken, burned to CD and sent to a remote internet backup site. Check.
Fantasy Football teams properly staffed for Sunday combat. Check.
There's a lot more to do but it really does not feel like disaster time. Tomorrow will be a different story.
After relaxing to Harry Potter 3, I made the mistake of putting on the local Fox news channel. Moronic Mike Barajas and a nameless automaton next to him. I watched for about fifteen minutes before the Mrs. took the remote from my hands. THIS is the reason I do not watch local news. This was not news, it was fantasy. It was the creation of the reporters own reality without any evidence whatsoever to support their exclamations. Despicable. Baited by Barajas, weatherwoman Cecilia Sinclair gave him the most diplomatic on air bitch slap I have ever seen. I was cheering for her to take her weather screen clicker and smash Mike in the face but it did not happen. Damn. That would have been good disaster television.
Rita Part Two to continue Friday! With Pictures!
