Arriving in Panama City a night earlier than planned meant having the opportunity to experience Bike Week (and we're not talkin' bicycles here) and having to switch hotels midway through my visit. Bikers had taken over the Days Inn on Panama City Beach where I had a pre-paid room reserved for Sunday night, so I couldn't just add Saturday night to my reservation. It was the Grand Finale of Bike Week on Panama City Beach, an event that rivals similar outrageous parties famous in Daytona Beach and Myrtle Beach. If you've ever been to either place, just know that Panama City Beach fits right in to that tacky image. Sorry to offend any readers who have a fondness for the "Redneck Riviera," but even some of the locals told me they thought the best thing that could happen to PCB was a major hurricane.
Monday morning couldn't come too soon. I was looking forward to my next stop in New Orleans. My flight over the coastal waters of the Gulf was spectacular and a brisk tailwind shortened the trip considerably. A low overcast in southern Louisiana required an instrument approach to Runway 18R at Lakefront Airport. The glidepath brings you down over the water right to the edge of Lake Ponchartrain. Pretty cool.
It only takes a minute to realize the airport was one of Katrina's casualties. Sides of buildings are missing, the old control tower is abandoned with all of its glass blown out, and businesses are operating out of double-wide trailers. But the spirit of the people there couldn't be more positive. They're trying to get beyond it, but they remember. The horror, the loss of life, and a city that might never be restored.
Henry Adams is the cabbie who drove me to the hotel. He and his family evacuated but lost everything. His 25 year old neighbor stayed behind. As Henry told it, the wall of water rushing in from a breached levee was so strong that it turned the neighbor's house upside down. His neighbor had desperately sought higher ground by climbing into the attic. But as Henry said, "he didn't have a chance."
All along our route into the city I saw one neighborhood after another. All abandoned. All boarded up. No signs of any life. Henry told me the blue tarps on some of the houses were put there by rescuers who had to chop through the roof.
If you look at New Orleans' commercial and tourist districts, you might not realize what lies just outside the city gates. It's almost life as it was before Katrina. Except for the tacky T-shirts that are for sale everywhere reminding us of Katrina's legacy.
Monday morning couldn't come too soon. I was looking forward to my next stop in New Orleans. My flight over the coastal waters of the Gulf was spectacular and a brisk tailwind shortened the trip considerably. A low overcast in southern Louisiana required an instrument approach to Runway 18R at Lakefront Airport. The glidepath brings you down over the water right to the edge of Lake Ponchartrain. Pretty cool.
It only takes a minute to realize the airport was one of Katrina's casualties. Sides of buildings are missing, the old control tower is abandoned with all of its glass blown out, and businesses are operating out of double-wide trailers. But the spirit of the people there couldn't be more positive. They're trying to get beyond it, but they remember. The horror, the loss of life, and a city that might never be restored.
Henry Adams is the cabbie who drove me to the hotel. He and his family evacuated but lost everything. His 25 year old neighbor stayed behind. As Henry told it, the wall of water rushing in from a breached levee was so strong that it turned the neighbor's house upside down. His neighbor had desperately sought higher ground by climbing into the attic. But as Henry said, "he didn't have a chance."
All along our route into the city I saw one neighborhood after another. All abandoned. All boarded up. No signs of any life. Henry told me the blue tarps on some of the houses were put there by rescuers who had to chop through the roof.
If you look at New Orleans' commercial and tourist districts, you might not realize what lies just outside the city gates. It's almost life as it was before Katrina. Except for the tacky T-shirts that are for sale everywhere reminding us of Katrina's legacy.
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