At the age of 26, I had never left Louisiana. All of my family had passed away. I had no reason to stay but still no reason to leave either. It was my home, it was all I knew. Now here I was, on a bus, on my way to Houston Texas. To the Astrodome. We arrived early in the morning, just before the sun rose. We waited on the bus for over an hour while people were let off and checked in. We were all searched, I was carrying my Jack Daniels and 2 samurai swords and was declared “a live one” in good humor, and lost my stuff. I guess this is about where my story ends. The excitement was over. We were in a safe place. We were given a cot to sleep on, food, water. Able to contact a ride, we stayed at the Astrodome until 2am the next morning. Upon leaving, we were bombarded by Texans. Big smiling faces, carrying clothes, food, blankets. Doing all they could to help everyone. They were some of the nicest people I have ever met. Maybe it was the situation, who cares, they must have hearts bigger than those smiles. Sitting on the curb, waiting for my ride, I tried to use my cell phone. The battery was dead. A man walking by noticed me trying to use my phone. He had the same phone as I did. He gave me the battery out of his phone, no, he didn’t let me use his phone- he gave me his battery. Pretty cool. In closing, my final memory of all of this. It left me feeling alone. Our ride showed up. Thrilled, excited, happy! We were leaving! Our ride, my (ex) brother-in-law, I was left standing there, watching hugs and tears. I felt so alone.