UNITED STATES:AT ABOUT the time Gustav made landfall down the coast and the winds began spinning the suspended traffic lights like beads on a string, Alan Kansa came into his own: a minor local hero to the people riding out this hurricane.
So far as Kansa knew, his was one of only two shops still open yesterday morning in Lafayette, a town of 110,000 that lies directly in the eye of the storm.
Gustav was expected to pass over Lafayette by mid-afternoon yesterday, bringing with it the possibility of tidal surges, tornadoes and flooding as it moves past Louisiana towards Texas and Arkansas.
This time though, three years after the horrors of Katrina, the people of Lafayette and southern Louisiana were ready - or at least far readier than they have been before, thanks to mobilisation efforts by the state authorities.
The day began with preternatural calm: no rain, not even a breath of wind, just the occasional flock of birds, circling in confusion, before flying north.
Aside from Kansa's shop, there was almost no sign of movement. Entire shopping malls were boarded up or cloaked with bright orange netting. The large picture windows at the local Hilton were taped up as if it was a war zone.
Officially, Lafayette was not under mandatory evacuation, but the town seemed to have emptied out or hunkered down. The few who ventured out had a definite sense of purpose. They wanted the essentials, and quickly. That meant cigarettes - or ice because of predictions the electricity would fail by evening and not return for days.
For Leslie Montgomery, that meant a case of beer and a bottle of vodka. "I'm going to forget the storm," she said.
As the first raindrops began coming down, Barry Brunet was sent out by his wife to get tinned dog food. The Brunets had evacuated their home in Houma further down towards the coast, boarding up the windows and hoping for the best. Brunet had been hoping to stay put. "As far as I am concerned they can eat dry food," he said.
Kansa kept an eye out for the approaching storm, but, with business good, he was in no hurry to close up shop. "I've been in this position so many times," he said, wafting his hand through the air, jaded. But three years after Katrina, most Louisianans were in no mood to take chances.