Tuesday via Thursday

Don't let the timestamp on the blog fool you, it is really 2:53 am as I start this post. I can't sleep. The bunkhouse is at capacity of over 100 sleeping souls. My quick focus group tells me that while 20% of the population snores, they prevent the remaining 80% from sleeping. Earplugs are a wonderous thing but sometimes once you are up, you are up. I figured I might as well take this opportunity to add my own little typing sounds to the chorus of the night and catch you up on our activities.

I left off my previous post with Tuesday afternoon's gut. This second house my Tuesday crew was assigned to was in the heart of the Lower 9. If not for the few FEMA trailers parked on some properties it would be hard to say anyone lived in a 2 mile radius. With us dressed in our Tyvek suits, respirators, goggles and hardhats it was as if we were a hazmat crew responding to a town eradicated from radiation or a horror-flick plague.

The house was rather small, 4-5 rooms total I believe, but I never made it past the first two rooms so I'm not sure. There was a visible waterline slightly higher than my waist circling the room. Black mold was visible on every possible surface with paint peeling in sheets 5 feet wide. But the truly horrific part was the floor, the carpeting and the wood underneath were still sopping wet. It was a slimy sludge that was slippery to walk on, much less stake a ladder on while you climb up with a crowbar to rip out the sagging ceiling. And once all the "dry"wall has been pulled down from the ceilings and walls it must be shovelled into trashcans and hauled to the street. After all the debris has been cleared we pulled up the carpet to expose the still-wet wood underneath which finally gave way in some spots. The final duty when gutting a house is to pull each and every nail from the wood studs to make a smooth surface for the de-molding crew. Many of the nails below the waterline simply dissolved on contact; 6-8 inch framing nails reduced to dust, thus is the power of the levee break.

The amazing part of this work was not that a crew of about 8 can completely gut a house in a few hours, it is that they do it willingly, without hesitation, without a freakin' "org chart". You pick up the closest tool and attack whatever surface needs to be done, no questions asked. The only heirarchy on the work site is the two Team Leaders who are entrusted with our safety in the situation and take that on with the utmost respect. The TLs on this day's project, Reggie and Elliot, are no more than 20 years old. I cannot think of anywhere else in my life that I have encountered such a classless society. Age, race, sex, income, education, and what kind of car you drive don't mean a damn thing in the Lower 9. So the most disgusting house I've ever seen was also one of the most beautiful sites I've ever witnessed. My gratitude towards my team that day, which included Rhinos Jason, James, Sarah, Dana, Jean as well as to everyone who made my trip possible is immeasurable.