The disaster response in Houston has been huge, with many places turning volunteers and donations away due to supply exceeding demand, but the larger shelters still require round-the-clock help. We walked into the volunteer registration area with a medical technician called Lisa who had driven down from Dallas for the weekend. "Wow, someone with useful skills," Hannah told her. "Everyone has useful skills," Lisa replied, kindly and incorrectly.
The oil industry - Shell, Exxon and Chevron - has taken over the dispensary, where anyone inside or outside the shelter can come and pick up donated items, to replace what they lost in the flood. We were led there by one of many radio-wielding ushers. I have to say, the level of organisation is impeccable, with medical, social, food, and most other services you care to mention on hand for everyone displaced. It doesn't begin to make up for the misery of sleeping on cots with hundreds of others in massive halls, but the scale and quality of aid is remarkable. Maybe lessons have been learned since Katrina, maybe (cynically) Houston just has a bigger economic footprint than New Orleans. Either way, hopefully the people organising here are on hand to deal with Irma. Then Jose.
We were quickly in the dispensary hall, countless tables of donated clothes and supplies laid out before us, and suddenly my calling became clear. It's not that I spend all my time in thrift stores, but I do spend a lot of my time there. My nose for a quality item is well calibrated and here I was, tasked with several hours of sniffing them out, at high speed and accuracy, for other people! Was it destiny?
There was a row of desks set up for people to register their needs, and then the lists were passed back to "runners" (such as myself) to fulfill in blue Ikea shopping bags. Full bags were then handed out at the collection desk, where people could sort through to make sure they were happy. I wouldn't claim to be the best runner (although I was) but I certainly located some gems, and my eye for fashion - especially in men's underwear - was complimented on more than one occasion. If you needed boxers, I was your man. It was actually quite tricky not to fill a bag for myself and run, but I endeavoured to keep my personal thrifting purely professional.
After a few hours, crowds of police turned up and began hanging around the doors, and whispers went around that someone famous was arriving. "I hope it's Trump or Beyonce," I confided in a fellow runner. "Nah, it's probably Jackson," she replied. "Micheal Jackson!" I exclaimed. "I knew he'd faked his own death and has been hanging out with Elvis this whole time!!" "Erm...Janet Jackson. She's on tour," my colleague stated before shuffling carefully away. In the end it turned out to be a Hollywood actor called Kevin Hart and a basketball player called Chris Paul. I didn't recognise them and, to be fair, they didn't recognise me either. (Beyonce was somewhere else).
Shortly after that my shift was over. Hannah and I wandered out past some halls that were previously occupied but were now being cleared of their vacated cots as people returned home. We drove back to our unharmed home having spent a tiny amount of time making a tiny difference, but hopefully with so many volunteers working together human power can overcome the devastation that Harvey left. Given the usual political **** that follows these disasters, it's the only thing that ever can.
The shelter (from The Houston Chronicle - you're not allowed to take your own photos inside).
The dispensary (from The Sacramento Bee).
And this is Kevin Hart, in what is possibly Pete's favourite movie. He was very jealous.
