When Red Cross volunteer Carly Blatt and her friend booked a trip to New Orleans in late August, they never dreamed their vacation would turn into a life-altering experience managing a Red Cross shelter in Louisiana.

Shortly after arriving in New Orleans on Saturday, August 27 for what was supposed to be a relaxing vacation, my friend and I soon realized that we'd been dropped right into Hurricane Katrina"s new path. Although the storm was targeting Florida when we flew out of LaGuardia earlier that morning, Katrina had since decided that New Orleans and the Gulf Coast would be on her revised list of places to terrorize.

Preparing

As Red Cross volunteers, my friend and I had taken disaster preparedness courses and immediately knew that we had to prepare for the worst. Armed with an empty duffel bag, we headed to a local store to stock up on non-perishable food, flashlights, batteries, and other essentials as soon as we heard the severe storm warnings. To our surprise, the store was nearly empty and only one other person was stocking up on emergency supplies.

We headed back to our French Quarter hotel room to determine our plan of action. We weren’t familiar with New Orleans geography and couldn't understand from the news reports what kind of danger our parish was in.  At that time, local officials were calling for only a voluntary evacuation and none of the locals seemed to be evacuating. Tourists continued to stagger down Bourbon Street, focusing their attention on drinking hurricanes instead of escaping one. The swirl of Hurricane Katrina was shown continuously on the news with reports that the storm was heading in the direction of New Orleans—but only a few people in the French Quarter seemed overly concerned about her potential wrath.

Despite the lack of a mandatory evacuation order, we knew we had to find a way out of the city quickly—which was easier said than done. As out-of-towners, we were not equipped with the information or resources to know where to go. Getting a flight out to any city in the U.S. proved nearly impossible since every other tourist had the same idea and seat availability was nil. Numerous phone calls to rental car agencies netted no results. Trains had stopped running. And the last thing we wanted was to be stuck on a Greyhound bus in hours of backed-up traffic during the middle of a storm.

Feeling overwhelmed and trapped, our next plan was to see how we could make ourselves useful under the circumstances. In the past, we’d watched coverage of hurricanes safely from our homes and had always felt helpless that we couldn't actively assist in the affected areas. Now, here was a chance to step up and give back.

We contacted the local Red Cross chapter in Southeast Louisiana and let them know we were experienced volunteers from New York who happened to be in town and were available to assist.  They had already evacuated their New Orleans office and set up a temporary headquarters at another Red Cross chapter. Within a few hours, they’d secured a rental car for us and we were driving across the 24-mile-long Causeway Bridge to their current Covington, Louisiana base north of Lake Ponchatrain. After managing to avoid traffic by traveling during the middle of the night, we caught a few hours of necessary sleep in the car from 4 a.m. to 7 a.m. before heading to the Red Cross office to receive our assignments.

Inspiration

A few dozen Red Cross volunteers had converged in Covington to offer their support running shelters, helping with logistics and providing a variety of services. During a group meeting, one Red Cross staff member made a moving speech about what to expect in the days ahead and emphasized the importance of what we were doing. The inspiration was well justified—while everyone else was trying to escape Louisiana, we were staying behind to help people get through one of the toughest times in their lives. It was scary remaining so close to an area that many people were trying their hardest to flee. There were no guarantees.  No one knew what to expect. And that was terrifying.

As the volunteers prepared mentally and emotionally for the storm, we knew that helping those who truly needed us would also help us face our own fears. Being a part of the larger Red Cross effort was empowering and gave us an additional sense of security.  We weren’t going out there alone.

The Shelter

Early that afternoon, my friend and I were assigned to manage a shelter at an elementary school near Hammond, Louisiana along with a staff of four other Red Cross volunteers. We drove along unfamiliar back roads using a handwritten map and wondered whether we’d be safe once Katrina made landfall along the Gulf Coast.

After arriving at the school, we set up the shelter residents in the gym and placed extra food and supplies in the cafeteria. Since we had no idea how long we’d be there, we decided to ration. We also filled every available container from pots to pitchers with water just in case the supply became contaminated after the storm hit.

People of all ages and backgrounds arrived throughout the day and night on Sunday, August 28. Many of them lived north of Lake Ponchatrain in mobile homes and had driven to the shelter in their own cars, rather than getting bused in. Several had prepared in advance for the emergency and brought their favorite foods, extra drinking water, blankets, flashlights and batteries, while other families evacuated at the last minute and arrived with few or no supplies. Seeing this first hand was yet another reminder of the importance of being prepared and having an Emergency Supply Kit and Go Bag ready in the event of a disaster.

Comforting

That evening, we made an announcement to the shelter residents about what to expect and met with each family individually to see if they had questions or concerns. Some were frightened and anxious about the approaching storm, others were wrought with worry about family members who hadn’t evacuated, and a few were taking it all in stride. One of our primary roles was to provide comfort and care. The shelter staff ensured that meals, snacks and drinks were constantly available. We provided updated information as often as possible and kept the accommodations sanitary. And when the storm started to approach, we made sure that we were visible and accessible in case any of the residents needed anything.

A good number of our 120-plus residents were either elderly or disabled. One of our residents was a sweet older man who was alone and had difficulty walking. Each member of the shelter staff went out of their way to help him around, make sure he had enough food, and lend an ear—or provide a shoulder to cry on—whenever he was in need.

We also spent time comforting a group of elderly people who were frightened by harrowing tales they’d heard on their battery-operated radios about the Superdome. Simply being there to let people know someone cared was easily one of the most rewarding parts of the experience.

Katrina Targets the Gulf Coast

Although the weather earlier that day had been the prototypical calm before the storm, Katrina announced that she was on her way later in the night. We initially left the doors open in the gym to help air circulate, but had to close up after the wind started blowing debris into the reception area. As the storm pounded furiously against the building and a massive tree branch banged precariously close to the gym’s high windows, we moved all of the residents to the opposite side of the gym. A few hours later, several of the windows flew open and the shelter staff team worked together to board them back up using broomsticks. At the same time, an air-conditioning vent began to spurt, forcing us to clear that area and collect the fluid in trash cans. There was never a dull moment. Sweaty, wet and dirty, the exhausted shelter team looked like veterans of the hurricane hours before it even made landfall.

We alternated sleeping in short, fitful shifts throughout the night. Receiving notice that a tornado warning had been issued during the middle of the night only increased everyone’s anxiety.

During the wee hours of the morning, the building lost power as the news reports had predicted. Luckily, we had already prepared the residents by reminding them to keep their flashlights nearby. We encouraged everyone to call their family members and let them know that communications would likely fail soon.

We continued to update everyone with the news we heard from our battery-operated radios and the local Deputy Sheriff. The day dragged slowly as we sat in the shelter and waited for Katrina to pass—without communication, without power, without knowledge of the devastation that lay behind in the wake of her path.

Because the building had understandably gotten dirty with more than 100 people living there, we spent much of our time cleaning and ensuring as comfortable an environment as possible. Several of the residents, including two particularly hard-working teenage brothers, offered to pitch in with cleaning, mopping and garbage collection. The teens, Curtis and Spencer, were our heroes and proof that disasters often do bring out the best in people.  During a time where they were required to do nothing other than wait out the storm, they stepped up and helped us out with these thankless tasks. People like Curtis and Spencer represent the true spirit of volunteerism.

Some residents listened to tiny radios, chatted with neighbors, and started up rousing tournaments of card games like Hearts, Speed, and Crazy Eights. These people created an instant community in the wake of the disaster. Strangers lived and slept feet away from strangers, children quickly sought out playmates, and evacuees shared stories with neighbors in the sleeping bags next to them.

We watched Katrina fly by on Monday from the relative safety of the school gym. The blistering wind and nonstop rain looked more like something out of a special effects scene than reality. That afternoon, we began hearing reports that our town of Hammond was ravaged by downed power lines, branches littering the streets, and trees falling onto homes—and that it was lucky compared to New Orleans. After riding out the storm, some residents headed home to check out the damage, while others remained in the shelter.

Making a Difference

Each time a family went home, we felt as though we had lost a small part of our own. Although we'd known each resident only a short time, the intensity of surviving a hurricane together had left an indelible mark on all of us and good-byes were tough. The heartfelt farewells and thank yous they gave us were moments I'll treasure forever. It was only then that I realized what a difference we had made.

During our time managing the shelter, we’d been everything to the residents—their leaders, their unofficial therapists, their extended families, their food providers, their helpers, their janitors, their support system. It was an honor and a privilege to support these people when they most needed someone.

We’d planned on a relaxing four-day vacation in the Big Easy going on swamp tours, drinking hurricanes on Bourbon Street, eating Cajun food at New Orleans’ best restaurants, and listening to jazz. Instead, we found ourselves living through a hurricane, escaping winds nearing 145 mph, eating heater meals that would never appear in any Zagat’s guide, and facing our worst fears alongside strangers-turned-friends in a Red Cross shelter as Katrina barreled down on the Gulf Coast.

We would do it all again in a heartbeat.