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Dear Hurricane (now tropical storm) Rita and Katrina,
Thank you for ruining my senior homecoming. I hate you.
Love,
Tiffany
I’m sick of giving my money, my time, and my food to other people. I’m sick of my state not getting any extra funding for all of the 240845 kids that are coming into our schools. But most of all, I’m pissed at mother nature for ruining my moment.
I remember about a month before hurricane season started, there was a documentary on Louisiana and an expert said something about the levees of New Orleans not having the capacity to withstand a mild hurricane, much less two kickass ones in a row. Let’s ignore the problem and then whenever it becomes prevalent, let’s throw a lot of money at fixing it and then maybe it will go away. Maybe I should be more sympathetic to the people who were affected. Maybe I’ll overlook the fact that it’s not brilliant to live in a city built below sea level near a huge body of water with inadequate flood protection. Maybe then George Bush will start caring about black people and maybe Kanye will quit making such shitty music. (Although that new song is catchy) Oh, what a wonderful world.
Everyone knows the whole deal with Katrina, blah blah blah thousands of people displaced, poor management of the entire situation. Now on to Rita. Weeks in advance, there were warnings that a hurricane was coming to the already devastated region and into the south Texas region. Most people took the warning to get the heck out of dodge. Good for them. There was a shelter set up by the Red Cross in downtown Amarillo, Texas equipped to handle a thousand-ish evacuees. They set up my high school gym as an “overflow” site in case too many people showed up. This was on Thursday. No one showed up. Thursday night / Friday morning, there are about 12 people living in our gym. That lasted about an hour, they were gone by about 8 A.M. Friday was our homecoming. My senior year. My first and last year as a cheerleader. So what do they do? They divide up our homecoming pep rally into two seperate ones, one for freshmen and sophomore, one for juniors and seniors and move it into our 500 seat auditorium. There are 600 freshmen alone. And every single one of them SAT the entire time. Through every cheer. Cheerleaders were on stage, and you could barely hear us over the band that was squeezed in front of us. It, in a word, blew.
I am selfish. I admit it.
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