when we went to the stadium ….

Get ready for some super cruppy cell phone photos.

This morning, about 9 a.m. we stuffed all our extra 5-lb. bags of coffee and all our extra boxes of tea into the back of our car and headed out to the stadium.

And, wait, before I really get to that, I have to mention something else.

I’ve been on the phone a lot more than I normally am, talking to concerned relatives who don’t live in the area. They’ve all heard about the crowd of people at the stadium and they say, “Oh, man. It’s just like Katrina!!” And this IS a disaster, no DOUBT, but let’s not add to the problem by over-catastrophizing. Which is not a word, probably, but it is now. You get my drift. It’s catastrophic enough without drifting into that dimension, that hyperbole.

And I really have to say — it’s not like Katrina. After seeing the stadium firsthand, it’s not like that. It is not CHAOS. Actually, apart from the sound of bands playing — yes, bands — and radios playing and dogs barking, the stadium is rather quiet. People are subdued, not surprisingly, and well-behaved. One major difference from the Superdome: The stadium has power. People evacuated with time to pack belongings. They have things with them. Not everything, of course, but essential things: clothes and water and blankets and pets and cars and motorhomes and each other. There are portapotties all OVER that parking lot. So there are not sanitation issues. There may be lines to use them, but there are working facilities. The Red Cross is there. Police are there. Army Reserves are there. The National freakin’ Guard is there. There are — they say — almost as many volunteers as evacuees. And right now, there are about 15,000 evacuees at the stadium alone. It is hot here, really hot for this time of year, and the air stinks; it’s hard to breathe; people have lost homes or are waiting to hear if they lost their home; there is MAJOR emotional trauma all over this county, but there is not mayhem at any evacuation center and definitely not at the stadium. This is HUGE. A huge psychological/emotional difference — I think — from what happened at the Superdome.

That being said, uhm, when we arrived at the stadium — maybe they coulda had separate lines for the cars? You know, one for donations and one for evacuees? Just a thought. We ended up in a HUGE line of cars that basically encircled the entire stadium, a line that just blended everyone together. One lady in her SUV drove up alongside us with her three kids stuffed in back. “Can I go ahead of you? I’m evacuating and I’ve got my kids!” So that wasn’t good. There needed to be separate lines. Maybe they’ve fixed that now. I hope. We waited in line over an hour to make our little donation. Which isn’t the end of the world, obviously, but the line situation could have been better. Oh, on that point, they just said on the news: No more donations at the stadium. We are overrun. And the wait in line is up to 2 hours. So ours was nothin’.

But all that just left me time to snap some cruppy cell phone photos. Extra cruppy, actually, because the air is so smoky and hazy and disgusting.

Typical tent/canopy arrangement. These were everywhere.

I’m not generally a huge fan of Wal-Mart, but today changed my mind a bit. While we were sitting in our line, I was able to count — just at that moment in time — 19 Wal-Mart semitrucks on the scene, loaded with supplies. I could hear Wal-Mart dudes through my open window, talking to each other and pointing. “Yeah, that entire truck has water. That one has pillows and blankets. This one has diapers and baby food.” Stuff like that. It got me all teary-eyed. Here’s to you, Wal-Mart! You were there. You were there in force. Thank you.

Father and daughter and Fido, coming from the supply tent with blankets.

Here’s the view from our spot in line. See that black truck turning towards us? Look past that, you’ll see even more of our line of cars. Notice how the air at the horizon is the same color as the asphalt. This is looking north towards the fires. Oh, and during our wait, we saw a couple homeless people (they most likely came from the river’s edge right next to the stadium) ambling past us, their arms full of free stuff from the supply tent. I could feel my inner Shaniqua rising. Guess they helped themselves. Bastards.

Finally! Our destination in sight! The donation center! National Guardsmen (and women) were everywhere. I was all choked-up and tongue-tied. “Yes, sir.” “No, sir.” “Yes, ma’am.” The Guardsmen found out what we were donating. “You guys brought coffee?? That is so COOL!!” Then one teeny Asian chick — a volunteer — came up to our car and said, “What are you donating?” “Uhm, we have, like, 50 pounds of coffee and some tea and sweeteners. Coffee filters. Cups if you need them, too.” “So the coffee is, like, brewed, then? In, like, cups?”

I’m sorry. I just stared at her for a second. No, Precious, I didn’t just make a run to Krispy Kreme.

“Ah, no. It’s ground. In bags. So you guys can brew it for the evacuees.” “Oh. Uhm. Okaay.” She looked at me like I was a weirdo. I felt like a total weirdo. But the Guardsmen made it all better — swarming happily around the bags of coffee. Thanks, you guys! For everything!