The company I worked for held an annual meeting for the sales associates and certain staff members at the JW Marriott in Cancun. The hotel was absolutely the most gorgeous place I have ever stayed, and we've stayed at some nice places.
Since I was "staff", I knew it unlikely I would get chosen to attend the meeting. It was three days, including spouses with several meetings interrupting what would have been the perfect vacation. Every time I handed in a project to one of the executives that held that purse string I jokingly told them to remember that when the annual conference was coming around.
But then the economy started going south, especially for a mortgage company.
My boss told me she had bad news and good news.
The bad news was that the conference was cancelled due to the financial condition of the company.
The good news was that they were still giving the qualifying sales associates three days at the hotel, $750 toward airfare at a time of their chosing. And I was one of the staff that was allowed to go. Three days with NO meetings and that was BAD NEWS?
I was one of the lucky ones that planned our trip around a time when I could actually find airfare for two for $752. Oh and I forgot, they gave us $300 spending money on top of the hotel and grossed up the cost so that we were actually paid enough to compensate for the tax that we would have to pay for trip, since it was considered income.
Five years ago today we were packing for our trip. We were to leave on Wednesday, August 31st. We planned for 6 nights of which only three were on our dime.
Since we had seen the damage that Hurricane Charlie dealt to Fort Myers and Sanibel, we were worried as the reports of Katrina first came in. Everyone was predicted disaster of Biblical proportions to the city of New Orleans and the media reports as the hurricane passed over initially sounded like NOLA had dodged a bullet.
We left on Wednesday morning and arrived to a different, much improved Cancun than we have visited several years previously.
The Marriott lobby was gorgeous. We asked to be upgraded to a premium room and the overly gracious hostess assured us we did not want to change from the 4th floor room we were already assigned. She was absolutely right.
This was taken by my cell phone from our room. What you can't see is to the left we also had full view of the bay.
We spent 6 glorious nights, if I had known how wonderful it was, I would have booked closer to 10.
We stayed right here the majority of the time.
It was the only time I can remember that Bob wanted to do absolutely nothing but relax in these chairs all day long.
The room was so beautiful and was equipped with all the latest amenities of that time, including satellite TV.
We unpacked, took a cab to a Walmart to get some drinks and snacks, which was interesting to say the least and had a quick bite at the McDonalds located inside Wally World.
Back to the hotel and out we went to enjoy the sun, sea and infinity pool. When we arrived back at our room, a note was slipped under the door. A $100 gift certificate from my boss for the upscale and expensive Italian restaurant inside the hotel. Life doesn't get any better than that.
I turned on the TV and found the first English speaking news station. And the reports started coming in.
New Orleans may have dodged a hurricane bullet only to have a nuclear blast come through with the breaking of the levees. I would sit on the end of the luxurous bedding with my hand covering my mouth for hours at a time as I watched the horror grow with each passing day.
Coming in from the infinity pool each day, I could barely turn away from the news reports and remember thinking, how in the name of God does this happen in America. I felt guilt over sitting out on the balcony looking over the sea and knowing there were people drowning in New Orleans.
Shepard Smith was on site and his frustration and anger grew with each passing hour. He reported the bodies floating by the bridge overpasses.
Each time we came back to the room, I would find that I could not leave the TV for hours, shaking my head knowing that New Orleans would never be the same.
We had been there several times and loved the city, the music, the food, the atmosphere. We rang in the new millenium right on Bourbon Street staying at the beautiful Royal Sonesta.
Then the blame game started. It was FEMA's failure, it was Ray Nagin's failure, it was Governor Blanco's failure, it was the Army Corps of Engineer's failure, it was George Bush's failure.
There was enough failure to go around. In disasters of epic proportions, the real truth is that we are no match against the sheer power of nature. We would all like to believe that we have to power to protect everyone, even the poorest of our communities. We would feel safer to believe that we can control what nature delivers and it is someone's fault if tragedy overwhelms. Hurricanes, earthquakes, tsunamis, tornadoes, floods.
People drowning in the ninth ward was not because some administration was racist or didn't care about the poor. They drowned because we cannot control nature. Maybe....Maybe....if the funds to strengthen the levees had not been redirected for years there would have been less death and destruction. The funds were gambled in the most reckless way possible, they bet human lives and the loss was worse than anything imaginable.
The resulting looting and crime should have not been a surprise to anyone who had ever spent more than 5 minutes in the city. Long before Katrina, it was well known you did not walk north of Bourbon Street at night and you did not go to Louis Armstrong's park at any time, day or night.
My niece had visited NOLA just a couple weeks before Katrina hit. I talked to her right before she went out to Bourbon Street. I told her to have fun, but to not carry a purse and not put anything in her back pocket. Luckily she heeded my warniing, putting her ID and money in her front pocket. When she went back to her hotel that evening, her hotel key card, buttoned in her back pocket was gone. She never felt the pickpocket.
Selfishly I was relieved to hear that Bourbon Street did not bear the brunt of the flooding. But I wonder what became of the street musicians that made New Orleans what it was. I wonder if it's returned to any of it's former atmosphere.
One of my best friend's father is a huge jazz fan, Pete Fountain being his favorite. He had collected massive amounts of jazz records and jazz fans from around the county will sometimes come and visit him to see his collections. Over the years he had become friends with Pete.
Sadly the great jazzist lost everything in the flood. My friend's father finally located Pete and packed up his entire Pete Fountain recordings and shipped them to him. After all, he said, the recordings should belong to Pete. The collection had to have been priceless.
One day we will go back and stay on Bourbon Street again. I hope against hope it has the same feel as it did before Katrina's unwelcome arrival.
And just a few weeks later, Hurricane Wilma hit Cancun with a devasting force, leaving the Marriott closed for over a year.
Money does not protect anyone or anything from nature's wrath.
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