Episode 108: Holding The Lion's Share
Hello...welcome to one week later. Gustav came and went nearly without incident. Humberto struck us harder last year than Gustav did this year. It's been a week since I've posted anything to this blog.
Since then, I've been working again. I've worked the full week straight through without a single day off. Seven 12-hour nights of solid working and I was beat. I'm actually glad that I have a couple nights off. I'm jumping all over the place here. Geez, D, relax...there will be plenty of time to tell the story here.
That's what matters most, doesn't it? The story. In the days leading up to Gustav, it was so hot that the sweat would just literally pour from me. This year, we've barely broken into the upper 90s in terms of heat. I suppose that that's for the best. I'd spent the last weekend I was off preparing and trying to get the roomies to prep as well. With Deb sinking into a pit of despair and Phoenix seeming uninterested, I was left holding the bag on this attempting to motivate them. They did help but not without going on and on about possibly leaving again. Then having to take the time out to call Deb's daughter Rachel and fill her in on what the situation was...talk about getting off to a shit start. By the end of the weekend, I'd filmed the town pre-Gustav with full plans to record both audio and video wherever possible of a post-Gustav town. I was already beat from all the prepping that had been done. Unable to enjoy my weekend, I saw it as a waste that, on my time off, I was actually having to spend it doing all of this bullshit and then having to deal with my roomies getting irritable at me for basically barking orders like Tommy Lee Jones in Men In Black. Deb's daughter Melissa explained to me that her mom needed to freak out...it was irritating her that I was going on trying to get this thing in order before the storm.
That's nice and well and good but I don't give a fuck. The parish just declared a fucking state of emergency, most of the stores were closed, people were hauling ass like God himself was going to send Samson to take us all on using the jawbone of some dead animal and I was actually being bothered with sensitivity training NOW? It's becoming a survival situation by the damn minute and I have to take a California approach to it? Hell no! Wanna live through this? Follow me. If not, fine, sit in your fucking despair and see if I give a shit later. Around here, you prepare for the worst and hope for the best. If you choose to do neither then fine but don't get in my way, I have shit to do and you're either in or in the way.
Christ, that was pathetic! If I wanted that I'd have begged Richie to stay with us. Don't get me wrong, I was dreading that thing like everyone else but this is my way of dealing with it...deal with it and start moving. I don't care where you move but fucking move.
Getting to work in the wind and rain wasn't too bad. There were a couple of times that my truck had been blown around in my lane but no one else was around...no one to run into and no cop cars to pull me over to bullshit me with "Son...you know how erratic your drivin' was?" to have to answer. When I got there I found out the one thing I didn't want to know...we had inmates from other parishes in our gym and other places as well. I made peace with the fact that I wasn't going to have any time off by thinking of the money involved. The way I had it figured, Phoenix was unmotivated in the face of an emergency and that didn't look good for the idea that I had of he and I forming Team HAVOC. I'll get into that later. With Phoenix uninterested, that left me to look after my own self-interest and start showing some serious drive, initiative and ambition. Why? For once, I wanted to hold The Lion's Share. I remember so many missed opportunities from the last storm to do this. I knew one thing...the money would not only be good but some extra work outta me wouldn't hurt, especially now. Money wouldn't hurt, either. The only way out was through it so it was all, "SPARTANS! PREPARE FOR GLORY!"
I ended up volunteering for working my Wednesday and Thursday off. Gustav brought only a little wind and rain on Monday night. Tuesday night found me in between perimeter fences with my headlamp on and a flashlight, a thunderstorm raging outside that was far worse than Gustav could have ever stacked up to for us. Lightning flashed, I stood in between two metal fences, surounded by razorwire, ass-deep in water, crawfish, tadpoles and lizards swam all around me and all I was doing was praying like hell I wouldn't come across a snake. Had I come across a snake, each and everyone of you reading this would have heard me scream. I hate snakes. I hate 'em with a nuclear capability. Something about a long, tubular body without appendages moving faster than I do just seems unnatural to me.
Wednesday night, I ended up working with someone who wouldn't even talk to me. That meant I had a lot of time with me and my thoughts. I had started to regret my decision but Thursday night, I ended up in the gym, watching all of the parish inmates that we had. That was the easiest money I'd ever made. This weekend was more easy money overtime...hospital trips. Now, I'm beat and the one thing that's been on everyone's mind for the past three days is whether or not Ike was coming for us next. The projected path keeps getting pressed further and further west by the day and now it looks like it's headed for southern Texas.
Many of the people that I've talked with over the past few days said mandatory evac or no, they're not leaving. I can't say I blame them. Many of them spent six hundred dollars or more in one day trying to get out of Dodge only to find out that it was a waste of time to do so. The terrible part is that many of us who did feel the need to evac won't recover one red cent of that money. I'm glad I didn't run.
Now, I have a choice to make. I'm getting an iPod touch but what I wanted to know from all of you is one thing and I'll tell you this before I ask. I'm going for my concealed-carry license. That means I'll have mastered Mexican Judo. Judo know I gotta gun, Judo know I gotta knife, Judo know what I'm capable of doing to you. Anyway, what shall I put into the shoulder holster...a 9mm or a .40 caliber? Any ideas?
Since then, I've been working again. I've worked the full week straight through without a single day off. Seven 12-hour nights of solid working and I was beat. I'm actually glad that I have a couple nights off. I'm jumping all over the place here. Geez, D, relax...there will be plenty of time to tell the story here.
That's what matters most, doesn't it? The story. In the days leading up to Gustav, it was so hot that the sweat would just literally pour from me. This year, we've barely broken into the upper 90s in terms of heat. I suppose that that's for the best. I'd spent the last weekend I was off preparing and trying to get the roomies to prep as well. With Deb sinking into a pit of despair and Phoenix seeming uninterested, I was left holding the bag on this attempting to motivate them. They did help but not without going on and on about possibly leaving again. Then having to take the time out to call Deb's daughter Rachel and fill her in on what the situation was...talk about getting off to a shit start. By the end of the weekend, I'd filmed the town pre-Gustav with full plans to record both audio and video wherever possible of a post-Gustav town. I was already beat from all the prepping that had been done. Unable to enjoy my weekend, I saw it as a waste that, on my time off, I was actually having to spend it doing all of this bullshit and then having to deal with my roomies getting irritable at me for basically barking orders like Tommy Lee Jones in Men In Black. Deb's daughter Melissa explained to me that her mom needed to freak out...it was irritating her that I was going on trying to get this thing in order before the storm.
That's nice and well and good but I don't give a fuck. The parish just declared a fucking state of emergency, most of the stores were closed, people were hauling ass like God himself was going to send Samson to take us all on using the jawbone of some dead animal and I was actually being bothered with sensitivity training NOW? It's becoming a survival situation by the damn minute and I have to take a California approach to it? Hell no! Wanna live through this? Follow me. If not, fine, sit in your fucking despair and see if I give a shit later. Around here, you prepare for the worst and hope for the best. If you choose to do neither then fine but don't get in my way, I have shit to do and you're either in or in the way.
Christ, that was pathetic! If I wanted that I'd have begged Richie to stay with us. Don't get me wrong, I was dreading that thing like everyone else but this is my way of dealing with it...deal with it and start moving. I don't care where you move but fucking move.
Getting to work in the wind and rain wasn't too bad. There were a couple of times that my truck had been blown around in my lane but no one else was around...no one to run into and no cop cars to pull me over to bullshit me with "Son...you know how erratic your drivin' was?" to have to answer. When I got there I found out the one thing I didn't want to know...we had inmates from other parishes in our gym and other places as well. I made peace with the fact that I wasn't going to have any time off by thinking of the money involved. The way I had it figured, Phoenix was unmotivated in the face of an emergency and that didn't look good for the idea that I had of he and I forming Team HAVOC. I'll get into that later. With Phoenix uninterested, that left me to look after my own self-interest and start showing some serious drive, initiative and ambition. Why? For once, I wanted to hold The Lion's Share. I remember so many missed opportunities from the last storm to do this. I knew one thing...the money would not only be good but some extra work outta me wouldn't hurt, especially now. Money wouldn't hurt, either. The only way out was through it so it was all, "SPARTANS! PREPARE FOR GLORY!"
I ended up volunteering for working my Wednesday and Thursday off. Gustav brought only a little wind and rain on Monday night. Tuesday night found me in between perimeter fences with my headlamp on and a flashlight, a thunderstorm raging outside that was far worse than Gustav could have ever stacked up to for us. Lightning flashed, I stood in between two metal fences, surounded by razorwire, ass-deep in water, crawfish, tadpoles and lizards swam all around me and all I was doing was praying like hell I wouldn't come across a snake. Had I come across a snake, each and everyone of you reading this would have heard me scream. I hate snakes. I hate 'em with a nuclear capability. Something about a long, tubular body without appendages moving faster than I do just seems unnatural to me.
Wednesday night, I ended up working with someone who wouldn't even talk to me. That meant I had a lot of time with me and my thoughts. I had started to regret my decision but Thursday night, I ended up in the gym, watching all of the parish inmates that we had. That was the easiest money I'd ever made. This weekend was more easy money overtime...hospital trips. Now, I'm beat and the one thing that's been on everyone's mind for the past three days is whether or not Ike was coming for us next. The projected path keeps getting pressed further and further west by the day and now it looks like it's headed for southern Texas.
Many of the people that I've talked with over the past few days said mandatory evac or no, they're not leaving. I can't say I blame them. Many of them spent six hundred dollars or more in one day trying to get out of Dodge only to find out that it was a waste of time to do so. The terrible part is that many of us who did feel the need to evac won't recover one red cent of that money. I'm glad I didn't run.
Now, I have a choice to make. I'm getting an iPod touch but what I wanted to know from all of you is one thing and I'll tell you this before I ask. I'm going for my concealed-carry license. That means I'll have mastered Mexican Judo. Judo know I gotta gun, Judo know I gotta knife, Judo know what I'm capable of doing to you. Anyway, what shall I put into the shoulder holster...a 9mm or a .40 caliber? Any ideas?
posted by Lord Genocyde at 1:25 AM
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