One day, it seemed that the crisis was over, the disaster passed, even if the situation wasn't completely at an end. Blue tented roofs covered well-lighted houses that received phone calls once again, and where the people within made breakfast, squabbled about what to do for dinner, ran showers a little too long, and folded laundry while watching reality TV. The traffic lights no longer dangled into the streets, bigger than you imagine up close, and just one more obstacle to drive around. And though they still flashed, instead of running the red, yellow, green cycle we expect, flashing made everyone stop, instead of allowing some to pretend it meant a free for all where you never have to halt. The big government trailers and trucks still hogged the roads and parking lots, but there were fewer of them. As the public sector moved out, the private sector moved in. The big sailboat still leaned against the palm tree next to the hotel. I wondered if the owner had to drive by and see it ...