a personal story 10 years later

The Wimbledon Champions Park subdivision is inundated by floodwaters in the Cypresswood area on Tuesday, April 19, 2016, in Houston. ( Brett Coomer / Houston Chronicle ) (Photo by Brett Coomer/Houston Chronicle via Getty Images)

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Growing up in Houston, you got used to the saying, “If you don’t like the weather, just wait 10 minutes for it to change.” But in April 2016—during the Tax Day floods—I learned that sometimes the only thing that changes that quickly is your sense of safety—and it can take years to get it back. 

My then-girlfriend (now wife) Emily was new to Houston at the time, and I did what a lot of young locals do: I downplayed the storms. I was 22, had survived Hurricane Ike and Rita as a child and it had been years since another severe weather event. I hadn’t yet become a journalist. It was something we were just used to, “So what’s the big deal?” I thought. 

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A group walk hand in hand through high water from their flooded apartment complex Monday, April 18, 2016, in Houston. ( Steve Gonzales / Houston Chronicle ) (Photo by Steve Gonzales/Houston Chronicle via Getty Images)

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According to the Harris County Flood Control District, the April 2016 floods dumped more than a foot of rain across parts of the region, overwhelming bayous and neighborhoods that many residents had previously not considered vulnerable. 

That day, I was at Emily’s apartment in the Cypresswood area near Meyer Park in Spring. She loved that area. Even though it was an hour drive from the University of Houston, where I had recently transferred, the drive was worth it. For my 18th birthday, my mother bought me my first car, a 2001 Lexus IS300, and I loved driving it. 

Emily was in her second year living in Houston and proudly driving a 2014 Toyota Corolla that she bought with her first paycheck. She moved to Houston from San Antonio in August 2013, shortly after graduating from college and didn’t experience as much severe weather there. 

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Devan Horn, who used to work at Cypress Trails, works to bring horse Boomer across the flooded field and over a fence to safety on Cypresswood Drive along Cypress Creek, Monday, April 18, 2016, in Houston. Boomer bucked Horn off at one point and the two began flowing swiftly down into the creek before a rope was thrown to the pair and a boat came to their aid. Horn was picked up by the boat, and Boomer made it safely out of the water on the other side of the bridge over Cypress Creek. ( Mark Mulligan / Houston Chronicle ) (Photo by Mark Mulligan/Houston Chronicle via Getty Images)

Houston Chronicle/Hearst Newspap/Houston Chronicle via Getty Imag

Emily’s apartment was on the building’s third floor. When we stepped out onto the balcony to see the rain, we saw that the ground was engulfed by floodwaters. We turned on the news and then-FOX 26 Meteorologist Mike Iscovitz (later Chief Meteorologist) was telling drivers not to drive because of how dangerous the conditions were in parts of Houston. We tried going downstairs. By the time we reached the stairwell, water was already creeping into the first-floor units. Outside, both of our cars—the ones we relied on every day—were submerged. 

Shortly afterward, some strangers called out to us. They were helping residents evacuate via a small, inflated raft. I started making some phone calls to see if my nearby relatives were safe. My older brother, who lived about five minutes away, said his street was completely dry—as was my mother’s home in Northwest Houston near Antoine Drive, about 20 minutes away. 

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What struck me the most was how quickly floodwaters engulfed regions like the Klein area. One moment, we were watching heavy rain from the balcony, the next, we realized it wasn’t just rain anymore.

Eventually, we were evacuated by CNN’s Ed Lavandera, who happened to be on the scene.

“We all knew it was going to rain, but we didn’t know it was going to be this bad,” Emily told CNN. 

APRIL 2016: Neighbors pull future Chron.com reporter Ahmed and his wife, Emily, to safety after floodwater deluged their apartment complex in Klein, Texas

CNN

Kind strangers pulled us to the end of the apartment complex, where some fencing had been knocked down, and led us to the neighborhood homes, where my sister-in-law was later able to find and pick us up. Emily and I looked just stood there, stunned, looking back at streets that had gone from dry to disaster in what felt like minutes. 

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It was only a year before Hurricane Harvey, but we were never the same emotionally. After that, every storm forecast carried a different weight. We started heading to my mom’s house, considered a “non-flood zone.” anytime the radar look threatening.

We eventually moved out of Emily’s apartment in 2018. When we returned to Houston in May 2021—this time with me working as a digital reporter at FOX 26—we still searched for a home in a “non-flood zone.” 

In September 2021, I was asked to spend the night at the news station because of Hurricane Nicholas. Fortunately, it was slow-moving and nowhere near the devastation of 2016—but it was a reminder that it would be something we all have to get used to. 

“Though we can and will work to reduce flooding risks, we will never be able to prevent flooding in Harris County,” the Flood Control District recently explained on its website. “Even if we were able to construct a system of channels and stormwater detention basins that could handle a storm the magnitude of the Tax Day Storm, there is always a larger rainfall event that could overwhelm what the creeks and bayous can handle.”

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My wife and I still freak out every hurricane season, and even now, as a homeowner and a reporter, covering severe weather is a double-edged sword. I experience it from both sides: delivering the warnings while quietly remembering what it feels like not to get them in time. 

But I still am taken back to that unprepared 22-year-old and try to plan and harass my loved ones to ensure they’re just as ready for anything and everything so they don’t lose their cars—or worse.