Everything's Boarded Up, Not a Soul in Sight

11:30am

It's Sunday morning, and I just arrived in New Orleans. It's hard to properly describe what I am feeling. I have never been in a hurricane and I don't have a clue what to do.

I bought a book in the airport before we left New York so that I could better understand the impact and ramifications of a hurricane. The book, Hurricane Force: In the Path of America's Deadliest Storms, is by Joseph B. Treaster, a writer for The New York Times.

It was the only book they had on hurricanes at the airport. Treaster walks you through the worst storms in history, providing facts and information about different types of hurricanes and why some become Category 3 or higher. Throughout the book, he talks about his own personal experience living through more than a dozen hurricanes while growing up in South Florida, and then reporting on Katrina at the peak of the one of the worst hurricanes in history.

I'm sure this is one of those cases like when you're pregnant and the OB-GYN tells you not to read "What to Expect When You're Expecting." The more knowledge I have of past hurricanes, the more anxious I get. I know the next couple of days will be difficult. I will do what I can to describe what I am seeing on the ground. I think it may make me feel better, because frankly I'm scared and need an outlet to talk to someone. It also will hopefully serve as a means of communications between friends and family.

Our outbound flight from LaGuardia was delayed due to refueling. The pilot got on the intercom to tell us that they shut down the fuel tanks at the New Orleans airport and we needed enough fuel to stay in the air in case we were diverted due to the winds. Not looking promising.

As we flew in, everyone on the right side of the plane was looking at the cars below on the highway. Route 10, the major highway leading in and out of New Orleans, was jammed in one direction: out of the city. The road going into New Orleans was empty. So is the airport. Almost every plane is a U.S. Air Force plane -- C130s, apparently.

All you can see are people dressed in military uniforms with rifles and boxes full of supplies on the runways. Clearly, they're preparing for the worst. We just exited the New Orleans International Airport, and the National Guard shut down entry into the airport. I met someone with a TSA uniform who said he was flown in from Pittsburgh a couple days ago to help. I asked if he was here during Katrina. He said no. He, like me, looked a little bewildered.

11:45am

We're driving down Williams Boulevard. All entrances to the highways are shut down. The stores along the road are boarded up, everything is closed or vacant. Nothing is open. Even the gas stations are closed. It's like a ghost town. I've never seen anything like it. Homes are empty, with a handful of cars parked outside homes along the way. We're now trying to make our way toward a highway. There isn't a person in sight other than seeing the occasional car as we drive down the road. Some people, I gather, will ride it out. If it were me, I would be out of here in a minute.

12:15pm

We're in downtown New Orleans in the French Quarter, and everything is boarded up. Every hotel. Stores. There is no one around. Only police and National Guard. I have never seen anything like this. Pat O'Brien's, an institution here…closed. Just green shutters. I wish I had my camera. My mistake. Journalists with cameras are the only people on the streets. I've never seen military trucks like this.

12:45pm

We arrived at our hotel. It's fully boarded up. We came in through the garage below. It's called the Royal Sonesta. Apparently, this is mission control for the press. Everyone is here or on their way to this hotel. Shepard Smith, Anderson Cooper, Geraldo Rivera, you name it. Journalists and photographers are hugging each other. Many of them have not seen each other since Katrina. I can't imagine what that is like.

6:00pm

I just arrived back from a walking tour with our crew. We walked down Bourbon Street and Canal. No one is in the streets. It's eerie. I talked to three men from the National Guard, all were born in New Orleans. Two of whom were in Iraq during Katrina and arrived home 10 days after it hit. One of them told me New Orleans has never been the same. The levees are not safe. The research I have read suggests the same sentiment. Only 70% of the pre-Katrina New Orleans residents are back in the city. The only difference this time around, from what residents and crew members tell me, is that people have left. I don't know whether to feel happy about that or more fearful.

7:15pm

It just started pouring. I have the television on mute. I can hear the rain coming down next to me. Our rooms have an access door to a hallway on one side and a courtyard on one side. A couple hours ago, they rigged closed the shutters outside the glass doors to the courtyard.

I don't think I'll be able to sleep. Tonight the television -- sound -- will be my best friend.