The Aftermath of Maria - Day 17

It’s Saturday, October 7th. There’s no power and no water. We are up bright and early and ready to go. We cram ourselves, our bags, and our wiener dog into the very back of Luis and Maria’s mini van. Luis’ parents are also riding back to San Juan with their small dog. I was concerned that Lucy would try and eat that dog, but Lucy lays quietly between me and Jason on the seat. We are traveling light, just two carry on bags and Lucy’s crate. We have heard that some airlines are not allowing checked bags, and nothing is going to keep us from getting on this plane.

The ride is rough and bumpy until we reach a major highway. We don’t mind. We are getting out. I am focusing all of my energy on staying calm. I am dreading the airport experience. I am preparing myself for crowds, heat, noise, long lines, and miserable frustrated people. Lucy will not be happy, either.

We look out the car windows at the never-ending piles of debris and swaths of destruction. Power lines are down. Cell towers are mangled. The once brilliantly green mountains are now brown blobs. My heart breaks another 27 times.

We arrive at the airport more than 6 hours before our flight. We are not taking any chances. The ticket counters have been roped off and airline employees are directing traffic. Our line doesn’t exist yet. The airport has water AND power. OMG air conditioning never felt so good. We find a small spot on the tile floor and sit down with Lucy. I look around at the crowds. I see worried faces, dirty clothes, and lots of tears.

Since we have to wait at least a few hours for our line to form, I decide it’s time to open my present. I turn on my phone. My return to the Internet is a short and sweet Facebook post, “Hurricanes blow.” The notifications keep coming. There are hundreds. I read through messages from friends and family, and from people I barely know. I’m not a crier, and I hold it together as I read messages of concern, fear, and worry. Then I read the messages from those folks who really know me. These were messages addressed to those other posts. Steph and Jason are the most capable people I know to handle this. Steph and Jason are smart as hell. They’ve got this. Steph is a fighter. Steph is not just okay, she’s helping others. Steph is fucking running shit in the aftermath.

The tears went streaming down my face. I was reconnected to my people. They get me. They know me. They believe in me. And they were right about me. I had promised every person in our parking lot circle, over and over again, that I would work to bring aid to the people of Puerto Rico as soon as I had resources and was able to do so. And I kept that promise.

After a five hour wait and a stressful ‘oh shit we are gonna miss this plane if you don’t form a line for our flight already’ moment, we get through the ticket line and the security line and we make it onto the plane. The flight goes smoothly and the captain congratulates everyone on making it out of Puerto Rico as the wheels touch down in Miami. The cabin bursts into applause.

We have a short layover in Miami. We learn there’s another hurricane lurking out there – Hurricane Nate. Nate is sitting between Florida and Texas. ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME WITH THIS HURRICANE SHIT? We board the plane and the captain makes an announcement. He says our flight path has been altered to fly around the hurricane and we will still make it to Dallas on time. The flight is rough and bumpy thanks to Hurricane Nate but we don’t care. We are thrilled to be sitting in an air-conditioned cabin sipping ice cold water. We land in Dallas, head straight through baggage claim, and walk out to the curb.

My Dad is waiting for us.

Smiling.

WE MADE IT.

Now take us to Whataburger.