My car loves going 90 mph so much, it got me and 1000 lbs. of my belongings to Houston at 34 mpg.  That's almost double what I get driving around the city.

We made to to Houston to shortly after 7 am.  The trip was mostly uneventful, except for the pace cars maintaining traffic at 45 mph on I-10 all the way to Baton Rouge, apparently to allow the convoy of prison evacuees to get ahead.  It's interesting that it's a really big deal that they aren't allowed to mix with the general population when I've seen them in clinic, and even to the extent that we  can't be on the highway at the same time  We also passed a string of charter buses going the opposite direction to evacuate people who don't have access to their own transportation.  There were about 20 disabled vehicles along the side for the road.  (How awful would that be?  I'd have to unpack my entire trunk to get the spare tire out.)  Also, the town of Adams Bayou, somewhere just inside Texas, smells like garbage.  And then I saw the sun rise over Texas. (In my review mirror of course, since I was driving west.)

We got to Marlon's, and of course the first thing I did was check the status of the storm, which, since I left New Orleans had been upgraded to a category 2.  After napping for a few hours, I went back to my computer to find that it was now a category 3.  Sometime while I decided to do some school work, the internet went out, and I had to put the Weather Channel on mute so I could keep myself updated.  Since then, it's been fluctuating between cat 4 and almost 5.  For details on what the category differences are, check out this NHC page.

On the bright side, we met up with some med school friends at Goode Company BBQ, which was pretty tasty.

So I've spent the last 28 hours trying to pretend there's no hurricane coming at me - it's just a tropical storm, it could hit Florida, etc., etc.  Unfortunately, I suspect it's this kind of denial that stranded so many people here in New Orleans three years and one day ago, so Dustyn and I have decided that we're definitely leaving for Houston late tonight.

It's also finally reached the wind speed to be considered an official hurricane, somewhere in the ocean southwest of Cuba.

It's funny how two days ago when the small threat of hurricane had me all excited about taking a road trip to Texan and perhaps having our exam delayed.  This morning, however, on my drive to Home Depot to get a 4-D cell LED flashlight (that doubles as a self-defense weapon), the mood was obviously somber with numerous people stocking up on batteries and other hurricane-weathering accessories, debating with each other whether or not the should really leave the city.   And now, that I have thus far packed up half my life and I still have a quite a bit to pack into my car, I'm kind of sad to be leaving.  What if I don't get to come back?

Most of class this morning was spent overhearing people's conversations about who is evacuating where and why.  Less than the normal 30% showed up to lecture, probably running errands like Aaron, who needed to replace the busted spare tire in his SUV before the few of us the possible trek to Houston this weekend.  Rumors keep flying and by now, I've heard from someone eighth-hand that the dean of the med school has canceled classes Friday-Wednesday, and from someone else (insert prime number here)-hand that the dean has only canceled class from Monday-Wednesday.   But Monday is a holiday anyhow, so...who knows?

Some kids have already made big plans to leave tonight.  So far, my only plans  are to get gas and stop at Home Depot for some batteries and a big flashlight.  And, of course, compulsively check NHC.

I'm not sure what it is that makes me think that checking the NHC site every 20 minutes will give me new up-to-date information on whether or not we're going to evacuate.  Last I checked, I couldn't have been too dumb or irrational to get into med school.

Well, regardless of my intelligence, Wednesday evening's map of the project storm trajectory shows a hurricane headed my direction, with expected landfall by Tuesday.  I wonder what this means for my microbiology exam next Friday?

I saw this in one of my favorite blogs to read in my spare, albeit infrequent, spare time.
Running a hospital: First known picture of Michael Phelps

Last Thursday, a few of us took  a well-deserved break from studying for our inflammation exam to celebrate a friend's birthday and catch one of Phelps' races.  (No, I don't know which one.  I can't swim.  All I know is that Phelps gets to swim in the middle lane, there's a green line showing the rate he'd have to go to beat the world record, and he was moving faster than the line.)

Amongst my friends, Dustyn used to be a swimmer, Aaron played tennis, and Jay wrestled (among a myriad of other things).  And I thought to myself, how good could they have been if they had spent more time on their sport and less time in school?  But then, how would you feel if you devoted your entire life to one task, and didn't come out first in the world?  After all, there can only be one.

I can't say I spent a lot of time thinking about this; I had a lot of pathology to read, and honestly, I was in the marching band in high school.  The closest I ever got to an Olympic sport was competitive walking.  I was also attacked by a big hand stamp and was more worried about looking like I had Stevens- Johnson syndrome, which in case you don't know what it is, you really don't want it.

(The stamps says AWESOME, if you can't tell.  Apparently I'm really awesome.)