What is it they say about “When it rains”?
When it rains it pours. And when it pours in New Orleans, a city 2 feet below sea level, it’s going to flood. So when we woke up at our first campground and the sky was a deep amber yellow, I knew trouble was coming.
After checking the radar, it was clear that a large storm capable of producing strong rotational cells was heading straight toward the Gulf. To avoid the possibility of tornadoes, we would either have to drive due East and eventually face a weakened storm system or we could drive South directly into New Orleans and wait out the storm while the rain poured over the bayou.
Possible flooding felt like the lesser of the two evils, so we packed up our campsite at the gorgeous Fontainebleau State Park (just across Lake Ponchartrain from NOLA) and headed to the city.
Halfway through the drive, the torrential downpour started. We pulled over in Slidell, just before the interstate, and waited for a slight break in the rain. Phil has nerves of steel (though not a Viking in a past life because he is a.) incredibly gentle and also b.) gets incredibly seasick), so when he pulled over, I grew more nervous.
Finally, with our hazards on, we rolled into NOLA. I picked out a parking garage where we could park our car in a place where it would be elevated, keeping it (& us) safe from floodwaters.
We walked across the street to one of our favorite brunch spots from our last trip to NOLA, Willa Jean. That griddled banana bread has been our minds since June 2019 and it was just as delicious as we remembered.
In the hour that we were eating breakfast, the rains continued and, as predicted, the streets began to flood. Patrons quickly exited the restaurant to move their already-flooded cars off the street. We watched out the windows as the water raised inch by inch up the tires of a vehicle parked just outside the restaurant. The hostess told us, I’ve been working here two years and I’ve never seen this neighborhood flood like this.
When we were finished eating, we stepped outside to the realization that we would need to cross a flooded street to get to the parking garage. We rolled up our pant legs and trudged through 6 inches of water to reach the other side of the street.
The attendant let us in a side gate to the parking garage and apologized for not having it opened. He told us, My supervisor’s house was just damaged by a tornado in Slidell. This tornado went through the area where we had stopped at the gas station to wait out the rain.
After a tumble in the slick parking garage and a busted up knee, we made it to our car where we watched countless business men and women return to the garage with their slacks rolled up, nice dress shoes in hand.
We had no idea how long it would take for the flood waters to rescind, but we were very pleasantly surprised when just four hours later (despite a continual barrage of rain), the city’s pumps had managed to quickly expel nearly all of the water from the city.
At this point, with our wet pant legs and my skinned knee to show for it, we exited the parking garage and headed straight toward a warm, smoky bowl of delicious bayou gumbo. All in a day’s work.