Dersh 1

Amy Dersh
Prof. Jackie H
English 115
8 December 2014
A Hurricane of Disaster
Yo! Did you hear theres gonna be a hurricane?! Elijah enthusiastically exclaimed as
he barged into Trevor and my room.
Yeah, we know. Get out! And stop coming in here without knockin' yo! Trevor, my
now ex-boyfriend, yelled at his little brother.
They always hype these things up to be so much worse than they actually end up to be,
I explained to Trevor.
Now in that very moment, I wished I were right. I wished it had turned out to be not as
bad as they said it would be. But in Far Rockaway, Queens, that didnt end up to be the case. On
October 29, 2012, Hurricane Sandy hit New York.
After going through the most painful summer of my life earlier that year due to the differences my parents and I had, my parents ended up kicking me out of their household mainly
because I did not want to go to college right after graduating high school. This is what led me to
New York with a guy who I had only been dating for one month and barely knew, being that his
family lived in New York. I had moved to Far Rockaway on September 1, 2012.
Days before the hurricane hit in October, there were mandatory evacuations being called
all over different parts of New York. Far Rockaway happened to be one of those areas.

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So where are we gonna go? I had asked Trevor.

I dont know about you, but my Mom said were stayin our asses here. Cant nobody tell
us that we gotta go, he told me.
My relationship with my parents at the time was like a dark, treacherous sea, smacking
the edgy rocks along the shore. My sister and my relationship wasnt much better, but she had
been calling me non-stop the whole week, worried for my safety. My parents had called as well
to make sure I was all right, but being how I am, I could be on my deathbed and I would still tell
them that everything was fine. After numerous telephone calls, my sister finally persuaded me to
stay with her for two or three days at her apartment in Manhattan, until the hurricane passed.
With my medium sized, heavy, purple suitcase that dragged along behind me, I hopped on the
subway at Beach 60 street, one day before Hurricane Sandy was supposed to hit New York. As I
sat alone on the cold subway seat, I looked behind me as the doors closed. Good-bye Far Rockaway, see you in a few days, I thought to myself. Little did I know, this adventure that I was
about to embark on to Manhattan would last a bit longer than I would have liked.
Each day I would sit in front of my sisters TV as I anxiously watched the news. Subways
completely flooded, cities destroyed. Far Rockaway just so happened to have been one of the
worst places in New York to get hit by this monster of a natural disaster.
The two or three days that I was supposed to spend at my sisters apartment ended up turning
into a whole week. After being chastised repeatedly this week by my sister for the poor choices I
had made, I decided that the second the subways were back up and running, I would go back to
Far Rockaway and figure out my next move.

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Subway Line A will be partially open Saturday morning, I had heard the anchorman
say on the news. Excited to get out of my sisters hair, I said my farewells and tried to figure out
how to get back to Far Rockaway through all of the crazy detours.
I had been calling Trevor non-stop to tell him I was on my way back, since he told me the
day before that he and his family were still at their apartment in Far Rockaway. Only having a
few dollars in my pocket, I prayed that I would get back with no problems.
After traveling on multiple buses and subways for three hours, I reached Jamaica,
Queens. Only one more bus and I will be in Far Rockaway, I thought to myself, thinking of how
far I had come all-alone.
As I was waiting for the Q111 with my suitcase that felt like there were bricks in it, Trevor finally called me back.
Im in Jamaica! I told him excitedly. I tried to call you all day long to tell you I was
coming back, but you never picked up. But not to worry, I will be back in like thirty minutes.
Well we arent here anymore, Trevor said with no emotion.
My heart dropped. Exhausted, stranded, weak, and alone, I began to have a meltdown.
What do you mean you arent there anymore!?! Where the fuck are you? And why
couldnt you call or text me to tell me you left?! I told you the other day that as soon as they
turned the subways back on Id be coming back to Far Rockaway! I yelled at him over the
phone as I held back tears.
We at my cousins house out here in Queensbridge, where I grew up. But you cant
come here, so you better go back to your sisters or something.

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Having so many thoughts rushing through my head, I was at a loss for words with this
idiot. I hung up the phone, trying to figure out where the hell I was about to go.
I stood by the subway station as tears started streaming down my face like a leaking faucet. Either my sister would be nice enough to let me come back and stay with her even after
our disagreements while I was there or I would be homeless in New York. I called my sister and
told her what happened. With a sigh of disappointment, she told me to just come back to her
place. I was very appreciative of her for allowing me to come back, but I was not so thrilled
about the hours of transportation that I was about to embark on once again.
Hours and hours on even more buses and trains. I got to one subway stop in Queens when
the MTA told everyone to get off the subway and if anyone needed to proceed to Manhattan, that
wed have to take the Roosevelt Island Tramway.
Already having a fear of crossing bridges, I had to get on this red gondola type tram.
Packed in there like sardines, I tried not to look down as I rode along side the Queensboro
Bridge, elevated in the sky, going as high as 250 feet above the East River.
Finally, I made it back to my sisters apartment in Manhattan.
Amy, you cant stay here for long. I have to go back to work and so does my roommate,
Michelle. I talked to Mom and Dad and we got you a plane ticket to go back to LA. They said
once you got back that they would be looking into having you go on a year long program to Israel so you can hopefully find yourself, my sister dictated to me.
In my mind, I knew that no one could make me go on any program to any country that I
didnt want to go to. But I had to play the part so I could try to see what to do for myself next. I

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had called the only other person I knew that lived in New York. Tyler, an old friend, who went to
Hofstra University, said I could stay with him for the time being.
The next morning I said good-bye to my sister, once again, and left towards the airport.
Knowing that this would cause an uproar from my family, I didnt tell anyone my plans until I
reached JFK International Airport. At this time, my sister told me to call her once I got on the
plane.
I called her from a bus stop and apologized to her for not telling her the truth about where
I was really headed, but that I wasnt going to go back to LA to live at my parents house so that
they could ship me away to another country. That was the last time we spoke for the next year
and a half.
I spent the next week in Long Island, New York, in Tylers dorm.
After two weeks of being unable to get back to Far Rockaway, I was able to go back by
bus at last. Far Rockaway looked like Gotham City. Within the time I was gone, thousands of
houses had been demolished by water damage, fires had broken out, and crime was still high.
Walking back into the apartment where I lived, I noticed disgusting, dark, black, mold
stretched across the walls and ceilings. There were volunteers in bright, yellow, one piece suits
walking around all of the projects coming into each apartment unit trying to contain and eliminate the deadly mold. Days went by before the volunteers got to our place, but eventually, the job
got done.
This painful chapter in my life marked a need for change not only within myself, but my
environment as well. I had learned so much from my experiences of being in New York. Sometimes you need to hit rock bottom in life before you can go up. Having lived in the projects out

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there, in a town where the murder rate and robbery risk is higher than the national average, I
knew this was not what I wanted for myself. I knew I had to get out of this roach and rat infested
area. I could no longer live like this.
Having $3 in my pocket, I figured out a way to finally fly back to Los Angeles. A former
friend loaned me money for a plane ticket and I was on my way back to my hometown to go live
with a girl I knew.
I got to LA and immediately broke up with Trevor. That was a chapter in my life that
needed to be closed.
After only two days of being back, I already had an interview to work at the AMC movie
theater. I worked there for six months, along with working at a kiosk selling clothing at the Santa
Monica Promenade. At one point, I also worked at a luggage store in addition to the other two
jobs.
Over time, I became exhausted from working up to as much as 15 hours a day between
my many jobs. I realized that I was missing something. Being that I had no time for myself, I had
lost my passion for the things that I once really loved to do. I could no longer continue to be a
slave to temporary jobs that brought me no joy.
As time passed, my parents and I met for breakfast about once a month and began to go
to family therapy. This helped mend our relationship.
One day when we were out to breakfast, I had proposed the idea of wanting to go back to
school. My parents were thrilled that I wanted to further my education and were very supportive
of my choice.

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My Mom and Dad were very proud of how much I matured and how far I had come. After nine months of being in LA and not living with my parents, I saw how hard it was to live on
my own. As we were on much better terms, I finally asked my parents if I could move back into
their house, and they agreed, being that we knew I would be attending CSUN later that year.
Through the life experiences that I encountered, I became much more self aware and responsible
of my surroundings and myself.