Surviving the tsunami

Darleene Barrientos

One moment, Ira Heffler was on his way to his hotel’s restaurant for

coffee and eggs. The next, Heffler had joined hundreds of screaming

people, running for their lives, as water rose all around them.

The 57-year-old screenwriter and part-time Glendale Community

College speech professor thought Thailand would be the perfect place

to enjoy the holiday season with four of his long-time buddies.

Heffler still believes the country is wonderful, in spite of the

deadly tsunami that destroyed its shore communities Dec. 26.

A 9.0-magnitude earthquake off the coast of the Indonesian island

of Sumatra set off the tsunami that killed nearly 160,000 people in

Indonesia, Thailand, India, Sri Lanka and as far away as Somalia,

2,800 miles away on the east coast of Africa.

The earthquake initial undulations woke Heffler at about 5 a.m.,

but the Studio City resident thought nothing of it and went back to

sleep. Heffler was staying at the Thara Paton Beach Resort in Phuket,

Thailand, one of the areas hardest hit by the tsunami.

Walking to the hotel’s restaurant for breakfast, Heffler and his

friends saw water fill the open-air courtyard. Heffler then trekked

through the mud to get his camera in his room, but he soon realized

that was foolish.

“People were running screaming through the lobby,” he said. “So I

ran. I didn’t know why. It felt odd to be running without knowing

why.”

Heffler initially thought they were fleeing a terrorist attack.

What they were running from, he later discovered, was the second rush

of water -- more powerful and with nothing in its way to slow it.

That rush of water drew cars and boats into the hotel’s lobby, and

trapped throngs of people, some of whom lost their limbs in the

chaos, he said.

The torrent swept away the hotel’s restaurant.

“It was closer to the beach,” he said. “The place we had dinner at

-- a very well-known fish restaurant -- it was gone. Everything along

the shore was destroyed. Just rubble.”

The disaster brought out the best in people, Heffler said.

Throughout the country, temporary embassies were set up to help

people get home, since passports and other identifying documents had

been washed away. Despite the destruction of their country, local

residents continually asked him and his friends if they were all

right.

“It takes horrible things to bring out the best in us,” Heffler

said. “It was just so odd to go to the restaurant to have breakfast

and have it be gone. The hotel had no electricity and water, but they

still served us breakfast the next day. Instead of eggs and bacon,

they had pineapple and orange juice, but the gesture was still there.

The hotel was amazingly accommodating.”

Heffler knew his family would be worried. When he finally got hold

of a phone, it was about 2 a.m. in Orange County, where his brother

Carl lived.

Carl Heffler got his brother’s call before hearing the news

reports, he said.

“He called, waking us up, and he says, ‘I’m OK,’ ” Carl Heffler

said. “I said, ‘Ira, I’m glad you’re OK, but what are you talking

about?’”

His brother told him there had been a horrible tsunami and

couldn’t stay on the phone long, but wanted his family to know he was

fine, Carl Heffler said.

“I turned on the TV and there was nothing on the news,” Carl

Heffler said. “I turned to CNN and they had small fragmentary reports

of a tsunami. All this was just very, very early in the morning, so I

went back to sleep. I woke up early, about 7 a.m., turned on the TV,

and, boy, it was all on TV. Ira really scooped the media.

“I didn’t hear from him again for a few days, but I was so glad he

woke us and told us, because we would have been worried sick if he

hadn’t called us.”

Having seen such a grisly scene, Ira Heffler felt guilty he was

able to go home when so many could not. One Australian he met told

him his friend had been swept away as he slept in his hotel room. “It

does cause one to reevaluate,” he said. “I do know now that when I

get wrapped up ... I think there’s more of a feeling of

prioritizing.”

* DARLEENE BARRIENTOS covers education. She may be reached at

(818) 637-3215 or by e-mail at darleene.barrientos@latimes.com.