Hurricane Katrina struck New Orleans on the 29th of August, 2005. I got the call, bought some hip-waders, flew to somewhere in Alabama, packed a car with food, gas in plastic bottles and headed south. My first assignment was in Biloxi. When I heard New Orleans was to be evacuated, I bolted. Somehow, the press pass got me through every checkpoint. I drove across lake Pontchartrain into the Big Easy alone at dusk, while an endless line of cars rumbled slowly in the opposite direction.