As many on Twitter know, I was trapped in Acapulco after Hurricane Manuel hit Mexico’s southern coast. Sustained heavy rains over several days caused massive flooding, landslides and bridge and tunnel collapses on all arteries leading out of the Acapulco area.

 

 

Since there were no land routes out, 40,000 stranded tourists, including me, who had also come by car, tried to find routes out by air.

Mis-information was rampant. All military and rescue action was concentrated in the Acapulco Convention Center, known as “El Foro Imperial.” For three days starting at 6 am, me and thousands like me waited on lines, first to sign up for military rescue flights then for the actual flights.

Finally it became clear that the military had no intention of honoring these rescue flight lists and me and thousands of my closest, sweaty panicking friends lined up for 12 hours or more each day to sign up for one of the coveted commercial airline flights, also conveniently located next to the convention center. The commercial  airport was under 5 feet of water so any aircraft flying, left out of the local Mexican Air Force Base.

Now, the mis-information wasn’t confined to the people on the ground. I have to say, I received several infuriating messages from people, particularly in the US.

“Stuck in Acapulco? Lucky you ;).”

– For the record, being caught in a natural disaster is never lucky.

 

“Marie! There are emergency flights on Aeromexico out of Acapulco, just call their 1-800 number to get a ticket.”

– No shit, Sherlock. If I could get on one, I would be on one right now, instead of pressed up against someone else who hasn’t showered in days in a line leading who knows where, trying to get onto one of these blessed flights.

 

The phone lines for all emergency flights were completely saturated, and forget trying to call while you were online… there were so many cell phones in the area that service was dropped.

When you are in a crowd like this, your adrenaline soars and your body goes into fight mode, straining to see if you can gain an advantage in any way.

This sensation was heightened for me considering that Acapulco is now considered no-go zones due to extreme cartel violence. I would never recommend for a client to go, and I only went thinking I would be safe on someone’s private property the whole time.

Let’s be clear: me and the other 40,000 tourists fighting to get out had it good. Our homes didn’t float away. We had homes to get back to. From what I saw at the shelter, the best of the Mexican spirit was at work. Aid flowed in for those who most needed it.

A final point: mis-guided evacuation efforts highlighted the infamous socio-economic gap in Mexico.

Within hours, the elites – people with government, military or airline connections – were on flights to Mexico City. The rest of us (yes I’m included with here, thanks for nothing, US Embassy) were left to fight among ourselves in lines to fictitious rescue flights and faint from de-hydration.

For me, it took three full days of lines. The last was Thursday the 19^th when I got on line at 7 am, was the last trembling person pulled through a gate around 7pm, and finally, at 11pm my flight to Mexico City appeared. 

The pictures below are my own.
Many have been reproduced already; photo credits or no, I’m happy to share what I saw in Acapulco.

The beach, after the storm, was littered with garbage vomited up from the sea.

Pau and the military helicopter.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Day 1: This is how the military registered us for flights out

The Acapulco airport, under several feet of water

Day 2: Lines to nowhere.

My military rescue line, yea the one written on an Oreo carton

Part of the ceiling that fell out next to my bed due to water damage

Day 3:To shield us from the sun, they put up plastic tents, so that instead we could bake instead of roast.

 

Jersey Shore in Acapulco? Absurd but true guey. 

Escape. Finally.