A Perfect Disaster

We did what we always do in the face of disaster. We hit the bar.

Fact is, Katrina’s landfall last night was pretty fun. We left the venue a little bit early, and convened at the Hyatt for a slightly grim but completely hopeful production meeting.

Afterwards, the entire crew descended on Currents, the Hyatt’s fairly dismal sports bar. Two nights prior, Jonathan and I had eaten there in near solitiude. Last night, it was like Skybar on a Saturday night. We were shoulder to shoulder — gaffers, grips, production assistants — laughing, snapping photos, and drinking. Boy were we drinking.

Meanwhile, windows were bowing. Light fixtures were hemoraging water. And over the din of the music and the laughter was the sound of the wind howling like a freight train.

Katrina’s winds hit from the west. The hotel’s eastward-facing atrium entrance was protected. And so, eventually (say, on the fourth beer), we went outside. It was like stepping into a CNN segment. The sky was deep purple. The trees were pegged westward. Debris was hurtling through the rain-streaked air.

And so we walked out into the hurricane.

Afterwards — chest sore from laughter, skin wet from rain — we returned to the bar to find that MTV had drunk the place dry. They were closed. The crowd was thinning. It was time to find the afterparty.

It didn’t take long. Crack News reporter James “Jimmy Mont” Montgomery was hosting in his spacious suite. We hit the gift shop (miraculously still open), secured a few sixes, a cylindar of Pringles, and headed upstairs.

The after party was riotous. The sink was full of beer. The sliding glass doors were thrown wide. Curtains were billowing in the wind. Andrew, Shari, Alyssa, Christina, Yanina, Monte, Chris, James and I pushed deep into the night, and well into the next morning. By the time I got back to my room, Katrina was nearly gone. And room service had arrived.