This week, Texas is running an elaborate evacuation drill that aims to see how we’ve improved from the way we scattered during Hurricane Rita and Ike.

The state worked with the Salvation Army and local agencies, flying mock evacuees from a disaster in El Paso to DFW.

The disaster was, I swear, the disaster was called Hurricane Tejas.

I went to the shelter that was set up in Ft. Worth. The Salvation Army was working with the local fire department and state agencies on the project. I asked one of the organizers what kind of disaster might hit El Paso.

“The disaster is being in El Paso,” he explained, which then explains why I’m declining to name which official I was speaking to at the time.

While El Paso is outside the path of a hurricane, I’m sure the city is at risk of some sort of calamity. One of the Salvation Army guys explained the potential for accidents at the oil refineries along the Houston Ship Channel in a major hurricane. Perhaps El Paso is at risk of an explosion at a salsa factory, or Salsa-Splosion, as FEMA has labeled it.

Consider this artist’s rendering:

Imagine a deluge of salsa running through the streets. Senoritas and mariachi bands would be stranded. Other, less savory mariachi bands would start looting, with players knocking victims over the head with a Guitarron.

I’ve covered several hurricanes. I was in Galveston for Hurricane Ike and was happy to relay stories of my experience to the Salvation Army guy.

I discussed my visit to the “shelter of last resort” on the island, where people were taken if they didn’t have anywhere else to go.

I was expecting a Katrina-esque scene of chaos. Instead, one woman I talked to started laughing and said, “Oooh, it was hectic,” then her kid stopped her and said, “Mom, these nice Army guys want us to get on the bus.”

Mom then explained that she was happy to be getting a free trip to San Antonio. They apparently had been there before because the kid was looking forward to a trip to a particular restaurant.

And I wept. “Why does society have to crumble!?” I exclaimed, reaching toward the sky in a Shawshank Redemption-esque episode.

So Texas may handle sitting in an emergency shelter better than Louisiana, but the state is still working on traffic. The Salvation Army guy would explain all the highways in Texas and Louisiana that could get, sorry to use a transportation term, jacked up. The state says all the problems aren’t fixed, but they’ve at least come up with a plan to keep people from having to abandon their car along the side of the road.

Now, they say they’ll set up stops along evacuation routes where you can pull off for a snack or drink. They’ll also have convoys of gas trucks so filling stations don’t run dry. Convoys.

In my case during Ike, everyone was getting backed up trying to get off the island. I was pleasantly surprised at how easy it was to get in.

This picture is from the trip home. That was in late afternoon and should have been a much more difficult commute.

After the evacuation order was lifted, everyone was trying to get back on the island. I, however, was excited to get back onto the mainland and hit a chicken fried steak place near the shore that a co-worker had recommended.

He would often refer to “CFS.” The fact that he shortened the name shows you he knows what he’s talking about. Also, they were already open again, providing CFS provisions to the masses returning home in an excellent showing of civic responsibility.