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    It was probably one of the most helpless situations a person that day could be in, and there we were, trapped in the midst of the confusion.  This was supposed to be our travel day back to the United States, but instead, we received a phone call from the front desk at five o’clock in the morning, ordering us to pack our bags, place them in the bathroom to protect them, bring along a small bag, and report directly to the main lobby.  The hurricane was arriving and all the guests were being moved inland, away from the Yucatan peninsula to minimize its affect on us.

Drifting in and out of a shallow sleep, riding on the bus was unsettling.  It was overcrowded, confusing, and none of the guests, including myself, knew where we were headed.  We had passed areas where no tourists were seen.  Poverty was very evident here.  There were families which lived in abandoned buildings and on concrete slabs covered by a tarpaulin which to keep them dry.  Needless to say, we felt very grateful for what we had.

It must have been all of two hours before the bus finally arrived at its destination.  We were going to be situated at a school for shelter until the storms pass.  This is what we gathered after many interpretations.  English was not utilized as the initial or secondary language anymore.  It was evident after noticing the actions of the staff, that this was a matter of survival.  We were no longer tourists being treated with the utmost respect.  We were given cheese sandwich rations throughout the day and two white sheets each.  Groups of us were divided into the separate loose hut-like structures, known as school rooms.  Once in the room, we worked together moving all the furniture onto one side, taping the windows shut, closing all the wooden shutters, securing the doorway and breaking any of the loose glass which trimmed the upper walls.  One was to think that this would inhibit the surrounding elements, but we could still hear and feel the rain and winds.

The day grew to a end and it was getting dark.  They had rationed out candles.  We lit them.  We placed throughout the room for lighting.  We all took our places on the cold dampish concrete floor.  I reached in my bag and pulled out another shirt to suffocate the chill.  I gave her another one too.

I remember growing tired and hungry from the fatigue, laying on the floor, and holding each other.  I remember the dampness in my sneakers seeping through my socks.  I remember my jeans feeling slightly soaked and wishing they were dry.  I remember feeling the cool mist against the skin of my face and hands. We heard the storm coming.  It grew louder.  I was afraid the winds would blow the windows in.  I knew that glass was sharp.  I held her tighter and tried to shelter her with my body.  The winds and rain continued.
 

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