Next Adventure: AUSTRALIA

Time to Departure: 15 minutes

I’m headed to Australia for five weeks with the Rotary Club Group Study Exchange program.  It’s a professional development program for those in their 20s and 30s who are non-Rotarians.  Our team of 5 willl be there for four weeks staying with host families, learning about their economy, industries, culture, giving tons of presentations to the Rotary Clubs over there about the Sunflower State, and we each have vocational placements.  We’ll be in New South Wales the whole time.  After the four weeks, I’m parting ways with the rest of my group for a one week extended stay, headed up to the tropical/white sandy beaches of Queensland.  I feel honored and excited to have been chosen for this opportunity!

 

Home

I arrived back in Wichita on the evening of December 7th, and immediately went back to work the next morning.  It’s been somewhat of a shock to the system.  I feel like a chameleon, quickly adapting to new situations, but at the same time, these first few days have been somewhat of a haze.  People have been asking me what the experience was like.  Every time they ask, my thoughts stumble.  For all I’ve written on this blog, it’s still hard to put into words.  So instead, I’ll just leave you with a beautiful quote from St. Gregory the Theologian:

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“You who are strong, help the weak.  You who are rich, help the poor.  You who stand upright, help the fallen and the crushed.  You who are joyful, comfort those in sadness.  You who enjoy all good fortune, help those who have met with disaster.  Give something in thanksgiving to God that you are of those who can give help, and not of those who stand and wait for it.”

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Back to the Real World

I’m leaving this latest adventure and coming back home to “the real world.”  For the first time in four years I’m coming back from an adventure to the known.  I’m coming home to at least somewhat of a plan and a direction for the future.  I’m coming home to a full-time job.  Monday morning I’ll be sitting back at my work cubicle, going through the daily grind.  I’m nervous.  I’m scared.  But why?  Could it be that the fear of the known is actually greater than the fear of the unknown?  Is it possible that I have been so used to flying by the seat of my pants for so long that normalcy and consistency actually scare me?   I don’t know.

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What I do know, is that I’m living on dreams and spaghettios, wondering where life is going to go!

Final Goodbyes

Today was a tough day full of goodbyes.  At 2am I said goodbye to Doug from Florida.  At 6am I just happened to bump into Almon from southern Aluh-bama, the very first Red Cross person I met when I got here.

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“Goodbye Almon!”  I said with a hug.

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“Goodbye Sugar, you stay outta trouble now!  Don’t let them boys chase after yuh now!”

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I walked across the street to the corner deli to get my usual–a very berry smoothie.  Every single day the same guy was there.  Every single day he knew that I would come in for “the usual.”

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“Today is my last one” I said with a sigh. ” I’m going home.”

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“You’re going home!?  Why?!”

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I wondered the same thing.  A part of me has been more than ready to go home.  The other part of me actually wouldn’t mind staying longer.

Today the corner deli guy was proud to make an extra special smoothie for me.

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“How do you like it?” He asked.

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It’s good!” I said, totally lying.

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To be honest it tasted really bad, but hey, it’s the thought that counts, right?  We exchanged goodbyes and good lucks.

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I walked back to the hotel and just happened to also bump in to Tiye standing outside.  Tiye decided to extend her deployment and I thought she had already left for work for the day and that I wouldn’t get to see her.  Fortunately, today was the one day she was working late, so we got to say our final goodbyes.

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At the airport I was starting to feel really bummed.  For all the people I got to say goodbye to, there were still others whom I never got to see for a final time.  Things changed so suddenly at our worksite, everyone got shuffled around so fast that we were never able to reconnect.  I decided to go for a walk in the terminal to try and shake off my blue mood.  Lo and behold, in an airport of thousands of people, hundreds of gates and multiple terminals, I just happened to run in to Lance, one of the teammates that I didn’t have a chance to say goodbye to previously.  After a second of standing silently in shock, we hugged and talked.  Lance was a great guy who had one of the best outlooks by always repeating his ‘suitcase idea’.  He always said: “I am a suitcase and I will go wherever I am needed.”  He never complained, never asked questions.  He simply did what was asked of him.  It was a great attitude to have on a DR like this.  We parted ways, and with a smile I boarded my plane.  It was as if all these people had been strategically placed at exactly the right spot at the right time just to cheer me up today.  I took my seat on the plane and against the backdrop of a rainy gray sky we took off.  And just like that the NYC landscape vanished into the heavy clouds.

Out-processing

Today was out-processing day.  We got our paperwork turned in and flight arrangements made.  After that, it was off to a taping of the David Letterman show, but it was so lame I actually dozed off during it.  The rest of the day has been spent packing.

Parting ways

Tonight the remaining members of our team met for one final gathering.  We had a great dinner together.

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We each shared what we learned on this DR.  Outside the restaurant we hugged, we said our goodbyes.  And then, one by one we each went our separate ways–to our different hotels, on to our different flight arrangements, to our different cities, and back to our different lives.  A group of people from across the country who would never associate with one another under normal circumstances were brought together in the midst of a terrible disaster.  Though many on Staten Island will continue to suffer for many more months, and even years, we at least played an ever so small part on their road to recovery.  We provided some material goods, but more importantly, we showed that we cared.  We were a group of diverse strangers, brought together by a common experience and a common goal.  We worked together as a team and we got the job done.

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Every single person on my team from NY: Willie, Doug, Stephanie, Mary, Becky, Tiye, Carolyn, Homer, Jose, Bobbi, Tom, Peter, Lance, Sandee, Terry, Rudy, Andy, Glenn, Rick, Ron, Ray, Jeff, and Bobby will hold a special place in my heart!

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Coney Island

Today Peter, George, and I did a Bulk Distribution run to a school on Coney Island.  The images of Coney Island that we all know are of happy days filled with roller coaster rides and Nathan’s hot dog stands.  Coney Island post Hurricane Sandy is a little bit more depressing.  As everywhere else, there is a lot of damage and a lot of sad stories of struggling families.

Hot Food, Cold Days

Today a group of us went to Floyd Bennet Field in Brooklyn.  Miller Field Bulk Distribution site was shut down last night.  As a result, our team has been split up.  About a third finished their deployment and are flying out today.  A third of us have transferred to Floyd Bennet to finish out the last one to two days of our deployment, and the other third were transferred to Aqueduct and Bohemia sites.  It’s hard to break up a team as close as ours.  We were like family.  The workers at this new site are weird.  They barely even talk to each other.  It’s been hard making the change, but it needed to be done.  Life goes on.

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I spent the morning at Floyd Bennet loading and doing truck inventory.  Crawling in and out of the trucks with my injuries was exxxxxtremely painful, but luckily this inventory was way easier than last time and only took about 10 minutes.  After that I went on a Bulk Distribution run to Long Island with Homer and Jose.

We delivered a bunch of supplies to a church that serves low-income, minority populations.

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“Gurl, you dun bring us supplies?!  Thank you!  Dis is such a blessin’ tuh us!”

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The pleasantly plump cook proclaimed.  Many of the people they help still don’t have electricity or heat.  The pleasantly plump cook was definitely cooking up a storm of food to serve the needy for lunch.  The delicious smells permeated my nostrils and sent hunger pains stabbing in my stomach.  I was so hungry I was about ready to gnaw my arm off.  But the pleasantly plump cook was such a gracious host.  After we finished unloading, she brought out piping hot, heaping platefuls of a southern, homecooked meal: tender chicken dripping off the bone, steamed collard greens, rice and beans, pickled rhubarb, bread, chocolate muffins, and juice.   Having hot food in my belly on such a cold and dreary day did wonders for my energy and happiness levels.  Refueled and satisfied, we exchanged hugs and made our way back to Bennet Field where we found out the rest of the team was stuck with cold, cambro style hot dogs and stale hot dog buns for lunch.

The Miller Field Shredder

Today was not exactly the most shining of moments in my life.  Under a rather awkward set of circumstances I ended up on the injured list.  In order to save my pride, I will not disclose the full details of said injury, other than to say that the equation consisting of: (human flesh + bits of rock, gravel, and mud) x high speed friction = shredded skin and gushing blood.

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Once realizing there was a woman down, my teammates swiftly jumped into action, rescuing me from the vicious jaws of the Miller Field shredder.  My teammates courageously dragged me to the sidelines and furiously went to work, attempting to dress my battle wounds with what sketchy first aid kit we had.  But with each wound that was tended to, another popped up.  Eventually my teammates threw me in the awesome, no lights, no heat, portable bathroom with a very motherly type from the area who had just come to volunteer for the day.  She stripped me down to my skivvies so that we could examine the rest of my body for all possible injuries.  In the biting December cold, I shivered my squishy butt cheeks off, in pain, as the motherly volunteer scrubed and bandaged my shredded flesh.  My clothes were equally as wounded and bloody, so I had the dubious honor of wearing the most chic of New York fashions–a size 2X American Red Cross shirt coupled with skin tight work out pants donated to me by the motherly volunteer.

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Back at headquarters this evening I hobbled in to Staff Health and Wellness.

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“I got a patchwork job!”

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one of the nurses yelled to her colleagues while escorting me back to a room.

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The nurse cleaned up the three sprawling wounds covering the right side of my body, slathered on some awesomely powerful antibacterial ointment, wrapped my mangled flesh in comforting gauze, gave me a goodie bag full of gauze, tape, bandaids, anti-bacterial ointment, and instructions to watch for infection, and off I went, albeit in pain, but nonetheless a hearty survivor of Miller Field.

More Staten Island Damage

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Our truck convoy

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Debris pile

More BD on SI, FAO, and Cupcakes

Today we did more Bulk Distribution runs on Staten Island.  In the evening Doug, Terry, and I went to FAO Schwartz.

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Not sure who is the bigger nerd

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 I’m Melissa.  He’s Doug.  And we are famous.  Now where are our royalties?

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Terry affectionately refers to us as, “you kids!”  In turn, Doug and I call Terry our “Dad.”  Terry even bought us kids candy at the candy stand in FAO Schwartz.  Aww, how sweet.

 Terry and his muppet

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Old man Terry couldn’t hack it with the young kids though, so after FAO Schwartz he headed back to the hotel, while Doug and I stopped at the ever so fabulous “Baked by Melissa” minature cupcake shop.

Lest you be mistaken, these cupcakes are no ordinary cupcakes.  They are bite sized-diabetes cakes packed with enough punch to send even the slowest of sloths into a full-blown, high-speed sugar rush.  After the cupcake party we each crashed into a sugar induced coma.

Lion King on Broadway

Today was my day off.  After delightfully sleeping in past 4am, I went to headquarters to check email.  I didn’t have much in the way of plans lined up for the day yet.  Walking in to Headquarters, I bumped into Becky, one of my teammates who was out-processing and going home.  “Hey, I have a ticket to the Lion King on Broadway that I can’t use anymore since I’m outprocessing.  I’ve tried to give the ticket away, but everyone else is working.  Want it?”  Becky asked.  “Heck ya!”  I squealed with delight.  I’ve always wanted to see the Lion King on Broadway.  When I was in New York last year I really wanted to see Lion King, but wasn’t able to.  Not too long ago Lion King was in my hometown.  Again, I thought about getting a ticket, but the cost was a little too much for me to justify.   Two opportunities had already passed me by.

But today I hit the jackpot!  This was definitely my lucky day.  I’m so happy I’m finally able to see it!

It turns out, I had been given a ticket worth $200.  The show was absolutely amazing.  The creativity was just mind-blowingly awesome and incredible.

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At the end of the show the actors took a collection to raise money for Hurricane Sandy Relief.

Inventory

Today I did inventory to be reported back to Headquarters.  It was torture.  They wanted everything counted down to the individual unit.  We have about 12 big Uhauls full of supplies.  It was my job to crawl into each Uhaul, count each individual unit supply, in each box, in each case, in each truck.

Easier said than done.

Some of the Uhauls were packed so tight that beyond the first visible layer, I couldn’t see how many cases were in each truck.  I could have taken the first visible layer and multiplied it by however many layers deep I thought the cases were, but the problem with that was that the trucks were originally loaded so hastily that some cases were loaded on one way, the next another, so one row might be 10 cases high, the next 11, and after the first visible layer there was no way of knowing exactly how many cases were loaded.  So to do inventory, I pretty much had to unload and reload each truck to find the total number of cases in each truck.   And to make matters even worse still, even if I knew the number of overall cases in each truck, most of the time I couldn’t just multipy that by the number of boxes in each case, multiplied by each individual unit in each box.  Many cases of the same supply had different count and different unit numbers.  So, for example, one case of diapers might have 10 boxes containing 12 individual diapers.  The next case, (which of course looks exactly like every other case) might have 12 boxes containing 12 individual diapers…or better yet, 12 boxes containing 10 diapers in each box.  A seemingly small difference when just looking at one box, but a HUGE difference when you’re talking about hundreds of cases and thousands of supplies.  Confused yet?  Yeah, me too.  Oh Bulk Distribution, how I despise thee!

Around Miller Field

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The studly men of the American Red Cross. Perhaps a new calendar series?

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How many Red Cross workers does it take to break down a cardboard box?

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Mealtime

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Supervisor Rules

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Burn baby, burn! This is what happens when a Uhaul gets stuck in the mud.

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Hometown Visits

I woke up this morning feeling under the weather.  Today was a low key day.  My supervisor still has me attached to his hip and stuck at the office, but today I didn’t mind since I felt a little run down anyway.  I spent the day typing reports, doing inventory, and getting some cat naps in.  We had visits from OSHA, FEMA, and ARC Health Services.

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In the evening I met up with Fr. Aaron from back home as well as two other priests.  It was nice to see a familiar face.  We went to a rather interesting rice pudding bar (mmm….rocky road rice pudding) and then to Greenwich Village for dinner at a Mexican restaurant (wait, isn’t that order backwards?  Oh well.  Dessert before dinner is always a win-win in my book).

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Tonight’s food has by far been the best food I’ve had since I’ve been here.  It was like a magical elixir coursing through my weary body, restoring some strength and vigor.  With full bellys we went to Macy’s Santaland, where I had to re-live the horror of knowing that there is actually more than one Santa Claus.  Just to be perfectly clear, I am still very bitter towards Macy’s and their multiple Santa trickery.  Bah humbug.  Nonetheless, I smiled….or cringed and got my picture with Santa….again.

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After Santa we headed to Bryant Park to watch the ice skaters, and there I parted ways with the others, headed back to the hotel, and crashed into bed.

Tale of Two Worlds

This disaster assignment is sort of awkward.  We spend our days working amidst destruction and suffering, while at night we are smack dab in the hustle and bustle of the holiday season in one of the most affluent cities in the world.   During the day we work on Staten Island where some parts still look like a war zone.  The landscape is demolished.  Houses are severely damaged.  Our particular worksite is one big muddy field with two work tents, portable bathrooms, no electricity, food out of cambro coolers, and 24/7 restricted access.  It is very reminiscent of camping.  At the end of the day we head back to the ritz and glitz of Manhattan, filled with bright lights, bustling holiday cheer, and excited tourists.  It’s like living in two different worlds.

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Night:

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Rockefeller Center Christmas Tree Lighting Ceremony

Seeing the Rockefeller Center Christmas tree lighting ceremony has always been on my list of things to  do in life.  So my original plan for the day was to wrap up work early and make it back to Manhattan in time to get a good view of the tree.    Unfortunately, my supervisor and I ended up working so late that the bus left the two of us in Staten Island and we had to hitch a ride back to Manhattan with our Logistics team member.

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Once in Manhattan, I scrambled to meet the others and make it down to Rockefeller Center in time for the lighting.  Of course, by the time we got there the place was jam packed with people as tight as sardines in a can.  We weren’t able to see the concert stage, but we were able to hear what was going on and see the tree being lit…..well okay, I admit, we actually only saw about two inches of the entire thing.  But whatever. I was there for the Rockefeller Center tree lighting ceremony.  That’s all that matters!

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Our mostly obstructed view: Stupid buildings.  The colored lights above the white flags is what we saw of the tree.

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The unobstructed view: Rockefeller Center Christmas tree lighting ceremony–CHECK!

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Miller Meetings

This morning as we headed out to load the trucks for Bulk Distribution runs, my supervisor pulled me aside.

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“You did good at the Warehouse yesterday, so I need you here now.”

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Apparently my reward for stepping up at the Warehouse and successfully managing ridiculousness means that I am now stuck in the office instead of going out on Bulk Distribution runs.  Sigh…I’d rather be out in the field working with the people.  Oh well.

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Today my supervisor and I went to an Occupy Sandy meeting and a faith-based community meeting.  There is a rumor going around (particularly among the immigrant and undocumented populations) that one of the local schools is being used as a morgue for unaccounted for storm victims.  Mold is also another huge concern.

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Later on my supervisor and I went to a neighborhood that was heavily damaged by the storm.  We went to one particular house that was badly damaged in the hurricane.  The owners recently returned and, as many residents are doing, started a fire to stay warm.  The house ended up in flames and is a total loss.  My supervisor and I walked up to the second floor of the house to talk to the resident.  I must admit, I was a little nervous that the house would collapse at any minute.

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After that we met the Hurricane Sandy Operations Director for the Red Cross and toured some of the areas that we’ve been working in.  We talked to some residents.  One had applied for FEMA funds but was denied.  Another was an older gentelman who had run out of his much needed medication.  Another was a group of people who had pretty much gone bankrupt feeding others.  Another was a catering business who had also lost significant amounts of money trying to feed the residents.

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Special Mission: Jersey City Warehouse

Today 18 of us were assigned to a “special mission” at the Red Cross warehouse in Jersey City. Oh, indeed it was a very special mission. Our job was simply to pick up food parcels from the warehouse and deliver them to specific sites around the area. But it ended up being one, big, dreadful mess. Our supervisor conveniently went MIA. In the meantime, no one was paying attention to which truck had what, who was on each truck, or where each truck was going. Outside was a torrential downpour. Everything quickly went from manageable chaos to complete and utter mayhem. Frustrated, I grabbed the clipboard and tried to sort things out. Unfortunately, some loaded trucks had already left without telling anyone. I had no idea who was on the trucks, how to contact them, how many food parcels they had, or which sites they were delivering to. Each truck was to get a specific amount of food parcels, but in the confusion everyone had lost track. Some trucks were loaded, but just waiting to be assigned a site. In the stinging cold rain I tried my best to figure out which truck needed to go where and give the drivers the best instructions that I could muster, when I myself had no clue what was going on. Adding to the fantastic-ness of the situation, two of our fine volunteers forgot to double check their load before leaving and the smart cookies ended up driving off with a completely empty truck. Awesome.

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In the afternoon the last of the trucks was sent off and Doug and I were left back at the warehouse waiting for the others to return. We spent the day loading ERVs and listening to Jeff and his stupid questions. Anyone who seriously believes “there is no such thing as a stupid question” clearly has not met Jeff before.  I love Jeff for his oddball, quirky personality, but at this point I was about ready to take some packing tape and zip his mouth shut.

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Meanwhile, morning turned to day and day turned to night and the trucks still weren’t back. The combination of no maps, no GPS systems, wrong addresses, heavy rain, NYC traffic, big Uhauls on small narrow streets, and many roads and bridges still closed from the storm proved to be a disaster in itself. Eventually though, the drivers and navigators started trickling in. Each one came back cold and wet from the weather, distraught at the hellish driving they experienced, and frustrated at how an intended “simple” mission turned into a crappy disaster. One team got in an argument with a cop, one team knocked a mirror off the Uhaul, a couple teams did fantastic curb checks, another team started driving through what turned out to be a closed tunnel and had to have police assistance turning around. Yet another team stretched their estimated 2 hour trip into a nearly 10 hour ordeal because they had been given three different addresses to go to (all with no map or GPS), another team of just two had to unload 500 food parcels off the truck and up and down a basement while the intended recipients just stood by watching the whole time, and of course, who could forget the two smart cookies still wandering the boroughs of New York with a completely empty truck.

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Late into the night we survivors huddled around the tables in the warehouse, anxiously waiting for our last team members to arrive. We had no way of contacting them or checking their status. We had the option to head back to Manhattan, but we lived by the phrase, “we come together, we leave together.” No matter how exhausted, we weren’t going to leave our fellow team members behind. Twelve hours after first reporting to the warehouse, our last drivers finally stumbled in to our clapping, hugs, and cheers of celebration.

The Case of the Wild Turkeys

There is something peculiar on Staten Island: turkeys.  These turkeys show up in the most unusual of places: porches, front lawns, outside of businesses.  One day I saw about 10 of them crossing the road.  As I walked up to one house to see if they needed any supplies, the homeowner was yelling to her small dog: “Get back here!  Stay away from the turkeys!  They are going to eat you!!”  I couldn’t help but chuckle as I asked the lady, “So, um, what’s up with all the turkeys on Staten Island?”  She didn’t know for sure, but apparently at one point someone brought a few turkeys to the island and let them loose on the grounds of a psychiatric hospital.  Since then they have multiplied, swelling to the ranks of the hundreds…or perhaps even the thousands.  It seems that even the hurricane couldn’t wipe them out.

Staten Island’s Wild Turkeys Flourish Despite Sandy’s Woes

The Damage

Today we had a specific quadrant of Staten Island to do a needs assessment.  In the morning each truck gets loaded full of supplies and comes equipped with a driver and a navigator.  Although I’m trained as a driver, driving big trucks is pretty much my biggest fear ever.  I almost peed my pants doing driver training in Wichita, KS.  So there is certainly nnnooo way on this green earth that little me is going to drive a massive truck on the tiny streets of New York.  So I’m sticking to the role of navigator.

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Each team of two was assigned specific streets on Staten Island to visit.  That would have been fine and dandy, but we had no map, no GPS, and really no idea of where the heck we were.  We pretty much drove around in circles half the time.

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For lunch my driver and I skipped the cambro meals back at Miller Field and instead stopped at a Chinese restaurant.  It was freezing cold and dark inside.  As it turns out, the business had been flooded in the storm, was severely damaged, but had just reopened.  While we were eating a Russian lady came in and told us her story of how quickly the water rushed in and completely flooded her house.

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After lunch we went to the South end of Staten Island.  It was bad.  We saw houses ripped off their foundations, boats in front yards and cars in houses.  The damage is everywhere.  Over four weeks after the storm first hit and many people are still without power.  We went inside one damaged house and you could smell the mold overtaking the house.  When asked if she needed any supplies, one lady replied: “I’m not worried about my house, I can replace that.  But I can’t replace my 31-year old son who drowned while trying to escape the hurricane.”  Wow.

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Miller Field: Staten Island

Today Carolyn, Tiye, Stephanie, Doug, and I woke up at the butt crack of dawn, met for breakfast at 5am, then walked to Headquarters for our 6am assignment.  Stephanie, Doug, and I are all assigned to Miller Field Bulk Distribution site on Staten Island–one of the hardest hit areas.

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Headed to our worksite:

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Our fancy office:

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Our luxurious transportation.  For Bulk Distribution we use rental trucks to haul supplies around:

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This is an ERV (Emergency Response Vehicle).  This is used by the Feeding group to distribute hot meals

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We spent the day loading trucks and delivering supplies door to door.

Sight-seeing and the Santa Scam

Carolyn, Tiye, Stephanie, Doug, and I wasted no time hitting the sights today.  We knew this might perhaps be our only opportunity to do something other than work two straight weeks in NY.  We spent the afternoon walking from Headquarters in the Hell’s Kitchen neighborhood, up to Central Park, down to Rockefeller Center, over to Times Square, down to Macy’s, and back to the hotel.

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In Times Square we had our picture plastered all over the giant Google Chrome billboard for a while.

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At Macy’s my childhood dream of meeting Santa in person was blown to smithereens.

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Let’s be honest now, what American kid hasn’t dreamed of sharing their deepest Christmas wish wants with the Macy’s department store Santa Claus?!  Not going to lie, I was uber giddy with excitement at the prospect of seeing the real man himself.  But low and behold, after about 45 minutes of anxiously waiting in childish anticipation, my beliefs were horribly crushed.  Santa is a SCAM, people!!  There were at least four of them!  Why didn’t anyone telllll meeee there was more than one?!?!?!?!  I give Macy’s credit for being able to conceal them all so well in the little “forest.”  I don’t think most kids realized, but you can’t fool this kid.  Not only was there more than one Santa, this particular one didn’t seem to be the jolliest of fellows at the North Pole.   Nonetheless, Doug and I relayed our Christmas lists to him, got our picture taken and received a button commemorating the experience.  I’m pretty sure I’m scared for life on this one.

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Believe my behind.  Thanks for crushing my Christmas dreams, Macy’s.

Sitting…….and waiting

The best advice I was given for this DR before I left was the reality of sitting….and waiting.  One would think that immediately upon arrival, workers would be put straight in to action.  Quite the contrary.  Instead, sometimes you can sit around for hours, even a day or more waiting to be assigned.  So I sat…..and waited. “We’ll call you when we need you,” is the only nugget of information I was given.  I sat….. and waited until I finally went to mandatory orientation.   Everything was put in to perspective when the trainer said that Hurricane Katrina was a level 5 disaster.  In comparison, Hurricane Sandy was a level 6 or 7.  After orientation I sat……and I waited…….again.  Finally I met some other people who were also sitting…… and waiting.  It turns out we were all assigned to Bulk Distribution and we were all staying in the same hotel.  There are thousands of Red Cross workers spread all throughout the area, the chances of this happening were slim to none and we quickly bonded.  While waiting, we decided to grab some NY pizza for lunch.  As we headed back to Headquarters, we got a phone call that we were not needed for the day and instead told to report to Headquarters at 6am the following morning.  We jumped on the opportunity to get some sightseeing in for the day.

Headquarters

I in-processed at Headquarters this morning and then did what I do best–walked around like a clueless moron for a couple of hours.  After in-processing I was told to check-in with Bulk Distribution on the 4th floor.  I envisioned that the process would be pretty simple–a small room with one person there bored to tears ready to pounce at the opportunity to check me in and give me further instructions in a neat and orderly fashion.  Nope, I was sadly mistaken.  It was basically like being a rat in a maze.  The fourth floor was a sprawling mass of cubicles, packed with important people who all seemed to know what they were doing, except me.  Everyone seemed busy, stressed, on the phone, or generally uninterested in the fact that I was randomly walking between these cubicles like a lost loser.  So, this is the nerve center of the biggest disaster response in the American Red Cross’ entire 100+ year history…cool!   Massive signs three times my size marked the different groups: Logistics, Mass Care, Transportation, Disaster Mental Health, Disaster Health, etc.  I found the Mass Care poster, but that didn’t really help much.  Finally I found another lost soul named Mike from Kentucky.  Poor Mike had a deer-in-the-headlights look plastered all over his face.  He was a big squishy teddy bear who was clueless, nervous, scared, and had never really traveled much outside of rural Kentucky.  We hung out until we finally found someone who was able to help us.  As Mike was hauled off in one direction and I in another, we quickly swapped phone numbers and agreed that we would try to meet up sometime.

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