His mother could not swim. So, struggling to keep his family grouped together, Peterson half swam, half carried his mother through the rapidly rising, rank water to the Quality Inn hotel. Peterson now stands 6 feet 4, and on that day he said the water on Interstate 10 was neck-deep.

"I had to (carry) my momma because she can't swim, and I had to (carry) my niece, too," he said.

At the Quality Inn, the bedraggled Peterson clan encountered scores of others, some of whom had spent the night at the motel, others who had arrived in various states of shock and ruin as the floodwaters rose. A boat -- Peterson doesn't remember many details about it -- finally took them to Chef Menteur Highway, and then an 18-wheeler somehow got them into town.

The Peterson clan, like thousands of other soaked and hungry residents, found themselves at the Ernest N. Morial Convention Center. It was there, perhaps, the worst part of his ordeal began.