Long Drive In

Highway 90 (a road traversing the length of the entire Gulf Coast) re-opened this morning. It wasn't as bad as I thought, but it wasn't good. Gustav certainly extracted its toll on the beach.

The first (and obvious) thing to notice was the mounds of sounds on both sides of the road. I'm guessing they were about three feet high. Tons and tons of sand blown off of the beach and onto the highway. (A close look at the background shows one of our lighthouses!)

Once I actually cruised into Biloxi, the beach became littered with vast expenses of odd brown debris. Seriously, I have NO idea what that stuff is. I didn't see anything like it in Gulfport! Seaweed? Clumped up grass? It looked like tattered old ropes. Miles of it.

Certainly don't envy whomever has to clean up that mess. They've got several days (weeks) worth of work ahead of them. Hopefully some kind of mechanized unit that can be driven around the beach all day. But they don't exactly make "Cleanup The Beach After A Durricane" style lawn mowers.

Finally, almost to the office, I caught sight of some of the serious debris. Snapped a picture of a big mound of the stuff. I'm guessing it approaches eight feet high. Maybe twenty feet round, at the base? A hulking jumble off wood, pipes, boards, and metal beams mixed with tons of soggy earth.

Of course Katrina was easily 300% worse than this. Where I only saw a couple of mounds of debris from Gustav, Katrina created unbroken MILES of debris, walls of it, almost ten feet tall, stretching as far as the eye could see.

Gustav could have been much worse.

Hopefully we won't get anything worse this season.

Biloxi's Open For Business

Driving into the office, I noticed almost no damage worth mentioning. Only a lone, tattered Taco Bell sign littering Pass Road. Otherwise, Gustav was only marked by the surprising number of businesses that remained closed in its wake.

Then I noticed three reoccurring themes.

• First, all major name brand stores (KMart, Burger King, Shell stations, Dominos, etc) were closed. I think it is due to the fact that they serve the lowest common denominator of clients. They are quick, cheap, and employ cheap labor. And I bet their staff fled town since their job was worth staying for. 
• Second, the smaller and locally owned restaurants were all opened. And they were all PACKED! I think it is because they cater to local clients, have established themselves with the community, use fresher ingredients, and have a more dedicated staff that cared enough to stay and return as soon as possible. 
• Third, every single liquor store in the city was open for business. I won't dwell of the social repercussions there. But it made for an interesting drive to work.
  

Pre-Opening Silence

Drove into the office this morning. Past two checkpoints. Right up to the front door. The barest skeleton of a staff. Aside from Security (guarding the place) and Engineering (repairing the place) we had about 20 people to occupy three million square feet.

The gaming floor continued to sleep. Completely unpowered, protected by waist-high rope barriers, and guarded by extra security, in case somebody (somehow) slip onto the floor, power up a machine, and play a game of chance without MS Gaming's express consent. Such activity is expressly forbidden and carry fines which could bankrupt small nations.

The main atrium was equally devoid of life. A couple dozen front-desk spaces neatly covered with plastic. Their PCs powered down. Nobody but us within ear shot. Normally the place is a fulcrum of activity. Abuzz with guests and high rollers.

In the pre-opening silence, I caught some interesting details that I had never noticed before. We have REAL GAS LIGHTS. Not flickering electric bulbs, but dancing gas-powered flames under glass. All the trim work on the front desks is made from wrought iron. Not painted plastic. Real, hand-work metal. And I really enjoyed the signs next to each station. They can spin to different positions allowing the staff to adapt their location based on the need of the guests.

During the morning, they mostly read, "Check Out." In the afternoon, they are spun to read, "Check In." But today, all of them, every last one, read, "Next Window Please."

For the next couple of hours, we hear you knocking, but nobody is home.

And Afterwards

And afterwards, we're only a little worse for wear. Maybe four hours of punishment. Lost power for a micro second,  several dozen times. Lost cable for a micro second, several dozen times. Otherwise, the experience at my house was not unlike a severe thunderstorm. And the results were similar.

The front yard had some excess water, closer to the front of the house. Nothing unusual there. It will likely be gone by this time tomorrow. Some debris along the walkway, but it is small. The kind of stuff the kids can  collect.

Along the edge of my property, there's about two inches of water. Again, nothing I haven't seen before today. I think the neighbor has more debris in her yard than we do. On the corner is the remains of a fence of hers. It was flattened during Katrina. She never fixed it. Anyway, the water there will take a couple of days, but it will go soon enough, too.

My backyard did pretty well. Almost no debris and the flooding didn't  get too wonky. About six inches of water at the deepest point. It will run off by the time I have to mow it again.


As far as the Mississippi Gulf Coast goes, here are some of the bits I caught on the news:

• Highway 90 (still under re-construction!) fell beneath two feet of seawater. It is officially closed until 5PM tomorrow, for cleanup.
• The Gulfport Yacht Club had some significant degree of flooding.
• Waveland lost power pretty early, upwards of 14000 people affected.
• Long Beach lost power, too, but only for a few minutes.  
• Biloxi had a 9' storm surge late in the game. Likely going to be a lot of cleanup as a result of that.

My money says I'm back to work by mid-day tomorrow. Business as usual. And we'll be on the lookout for the next storm.

Gustav's Landing

I didn't know he was upon us. No unusual wind. No strong rains. Almost quiet as Gustav began to roll across the Gulf Coast. If Cindy had not sent me a text message, I may have slept another hour.

Peeking outside, it looked as calm as it sounded. No flooding in the yard, not even along the far side of my property. No debris littering the driveway. My car hadn't floated away. And the street was surprisingly clear and completely free of looters.

Might as well fuel up and get ready for some hot recovery action. There will be trees to dice, widows to rescue, and orphans to shelter. At least that is what CNN leads me to believe. So, I grab a NOS and an energy bar. Breakfast of champions. Just me and Gustav. He's cleared for landing.

Closed Until Further Notice

A long day at the office. Nearly non-stop. Emails, phone calls, text messages, instant messages, and constant requests for updates or help. Most of our disaster recovery procedures worked as planned. A few tried to put up a fight but surrendered eventually. And we didn't have time to implement some of them. Overall, it went well.

It was uncanny to be one of only a half dozen people in a 3,000,000 sq foot facility. All the games and slots covered. Restaurants vacant. The Poker Room deathly quiet. Completely devoid of guests. A surreal moment we don't get to experience very often.

Eventually, every server was powered down. All PCs were remotely stopped then covered with viscueen. I shut off the domain controllers, pulled the power to our storage, and put in one last humble call to Las Vegas. Thanked them for their support and the good karma they were sending. Hopefully we'll all meet online this Tuesday, none the worse for wear.

For my efforts, I got a hug from our President. And maybe a few extra days next week. But when the time is right, we'll all be back to reverse the whole procedure. 

For now, the sign reads: "We are closed until further notice. Please be safe." 'nuff said.

On Gustav

I've purposely been avoiding any mention of Gustav. This isn't something I often admit, but I'm scared. Three years after the worst disaster in American history, there's another bullet screaming down the breach straight toward us. Thinking about it gives me nausea. So I think my silence on the subject is understandable. At least that is what I tell myself.

In the real world beyond my fears, Cindy has packed up and is preparing to leave tomorrow. She will take the kids to her family's farm in Hattiesburg. I have to stay. We're closing my property in the morning. We have to shut down the gaming floor, run all the reports, save the databases, run backups, and black out the datacenter. The hourly cost having our property empty would cost me half a decade of salary. Again, that is per hour. So no matter where Gustav hits, it is going to be extremely expensive for us.

But a man's got to do what a man's got to do, regardless of pitiless nature.To quote The Bard:

Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks! rage! blow!
You cataracts and hurricanoes, spout
Till you have drench'd our steeples, drown'd the cocks!
You sulphurous and thought-executing fires,
Vaunt-couriers to oak-cleaving thunderbolts,
Singe my white head! And thou, all-shaking thunder,
Smite flat the thick rotundity o' the world!
Crack nature's moulds, and germens spill at once,

That make ingrateful man!