Christien Louviere

Sunday, we illegally went into Jefferson Parish to claim things such as clothes and picture albums.  All of a sudden I gained new perspective on what is really important.  My HDTV didn’t make the trip, but my passport and a few family photos did.  I would have written the following story sooner, but the past few days have consisted of working to get my dad’s business running again and helping my family to get life back to what is now considered normalcy.

I was up at 545 am with Caitlyn (16), Chenae (34) and my brother in law, Chris (33), to head to River Ridge (Jefferson Parish) to recover our belongings.  After an hour on a highway, we finally got to a line just outside LaPlace (15 miles from our destination).  We turned off to an alternate route on River Road, which runs alongside the levee.  After waiting in line for about thirty minutes, we finally go to the checkpoint.  The St. Charles Parish police were there only letting residents of that parish through because Jefferson and Orleans were closed. 

"We’re just getting in from Houston and are trying to go straight to our house in River Ridge so–," Chris was interrupted.
"Is River Ridge part of Jefferson Parish?" the officer asked.
"Yes," Chris replied.
"Jefferson Parish is closed."
"You can reenter at 630 tomorrow morning," another officer interjected.
"Make a U-turn here and go back out the way you came in," the first officer said.

We headed back to Hwy 61.  Instead of heading back to Baton Rouge, we took a right and got back in line for the checkpoint.  Chenae and Chris switched seats so she could drive.  We discussed our new plan.  My friend Amy lives in St. Charles Parish and had been at the house with her parents cleaning up.  I told Chenae to tell the officer that we were headed to her house to help.  I gave her the address.  Thirty minutes later, we arrived at the checkpoint.  Chris tried to hand Chenae our licenses in case the officer asked for them. 

"Put them away," she said.
"Why?"
"Because I waited in this line.  They can wait."
"Chenae, don’t offer any more information than they ask for," I said.
"I won’t I’m just going to say," she proceeded to tell me what she would say if asked certain questions.

I think Chris and I were thinking how cool it is to see adrenaline running through her veins.

"Where are you headed?"
"We’re headed to Ormond (St. Charles Parish) to help a family out."
"Can I see your license?"
"Sure," she said as Chris pretended to make a big deal out of digging through her purse.
"This address is not in St. Charles Parish.  I need some type of ID that says you have business there," he said calmly.
Chenae asked about several other types of ID just going in circles to waste his time in hope that he would just give in.
"Mam, you will have to find an alternative way to get to where you’re going," he said knowing good and well that every entry point was blocked off.
"Well, how do I get to an alternative route?"
They went back and forth for about fifteen seconds.  I was surprised that the officer didn’t get agitated because I’m sure he’d heard every excuse in the book at that point.
"Here’s an officer that will direct you where you need to go," he pointed to a State Trooper approaching us and then walked to the next car in line.
"He just wanted you to tell me how to get to Ormond," Chenae fibbed.
"Just take this road down and the officers there will point you in the direction," the trooper said.

We were headed right back down to River Road, but we were behind the checkpoint.  We had one more hurdle to get over and we thought we’d be home free.  We arrived at the River Road checkpoint for the second time and explained why we came from that direction and the officer waived us right through.  We felt like VIPs or something.  It reminded me a road James Bond had to get through.  We lied a little, but I guess you do what you have to do when you’re in true survival mode. 

We went to Amy’s house to let everyone use the bathroom and get the lowdown on how the area had been.  Amy’s dad had been there for two days already.  They had a huge generator and were able to use utilities.  Everyone went to the bathroom, since we knew that would be hard in our parish where there is nothing except natural gas and DSL for some reason.

Amy’s dad was out and about in Jefferson Parish checking on his business, so I called him to see what our best moves would be.  He told me stick to River Road, which led straight to our house, so we’d planned on that anyhow.  He told me there was an unmanned barricade at the parish line (divider of St. Charles and Jefferson parishes) and that I could just move it.  He said there were cops everywhere, but they were working and that no one would stop us.  He stressed not to stop for any car that was unmarked.  Also, he made sure that I had a gun and a chainsaw.  He urged me to leave my sisters at his house, but we really had no choice.  We had to get 2 more cars out of there so we needed drivers and my dad was stuck on AL with my mom.

We left Amy’s to head to Jefferson.  The road there was relatively uneventful other than a few jokes and talking about the things we needed to get out.  After twenty minutes divided between River Road and Jefferson Highway, we arrived in River Ridge.  The tree damage was just unbelievable.  The force that had been shown was awesome.  100 year old oaks that are famous down here had been uprooted and thrown on roofs.  Trees had been split like toothpicks.  There was no grass in any ones’ yard because it was all tree.  The roads were narrow because machines had come in and moved debris to the side so utility trucks could get through.  It was a ghost town.  It looked like an abandoned city you see in those old movies.  It reminded me of the various abandoned neighborhoods that Tom Cruise drove through in War of the Worlds.  The sun was bright and the surroundings were desolate.

We arrived at my sister’s house first…(getting long will continue in the next post)

katrina warzone