I don’t know if I’ve processed the loss. I know it’s gone, but it just doesn’t seem real.
Co-owning DayTrip—our 70s-inspired bar and bodega in Asheville, NC—has been the most magical part of my life, other than marrying my husband, Davie Roberts, four years ago.
After over six months of planning and investing nearly $190,000 in a space we hoped would become an inclusive dive bar and community event center—only open to the public for 32 days before Hurricane Helene landed in western North Carolina—within hours, it was destroyed.
Like any other hurricane, when we heard Helene was coming, we never expected it to hit the mountains. We did expect to experience a lot of rain. But the most it’s ever flooded in our area was four feet, and the consensus among many people in our community was that that storm was a once-in-a-lifetime weather event.
In terms of the amount of unforeseen havoc the storm has created in our tight-knit community, Helene is our Hurricane Katrina. I captured my husband in a video posted on DayTrip’s Instagram page as he walked through what was once a functional bar, now filled with water.
In a moment of levity, Davie said, “We needed this rain.” It was a dumb joke that he probably wouldn’t have made if we knew what was coming. Later that evening, from the safety of our home, we helplessly watched security footage of DayTrip as Hurricane Helene ravaged our business, our livelihood, and one of the few queer-owned spaces in the city.
The extent of the damage was not apparent until we received photos from a neighbor who had taken images with a drone from above the building—not only was the water above the second floor, but the roofs of the storage room and the dining room area where we displayed our Pride flag were barely visible. We knew then the damage was massive.
Brandon Davis/Davie Roberts
It wasn’t until a couple of days later that the water receded low enough for us to return to the bar. It looked like a tornado hit, and the scene outside the bar wasn’t any different—in many ways, it was worse. The hurricane completely wiped out cell service in Western North Carolina. There were hundreds of telephone poles down in the streets. Trees had fallen on so many homes, and wires wrapped up and tangled all over the roads, and the electricity was out everywhere.
There’s an immense feeling of doom and gloom—not just in our household but also when you go into the streets and see people outside trying to get buckets of water out of a creek so they can flush their toilets—it’s unbelievable. Many towns still need water.
In the aftermath of Helene, running water for a hot shower is an in-demand luxury that many of us took for granted before the hurricane upended our lives. It has yet to be determined when Asheville residents and beyond can expect to enjoy this basic human necessity from the comfort of our own homes again.
Yet, despite it all, I’m still trying to remain positive. I’m aware that we’re the lucky ones because we survived. We did not lose our home, and our pets are safe. As I cope with our professional loss, I am trying to walk the line between not feeling guilty for worrying about our business amid the devastation and lives lost while grieving for everyone who has lost more.
We put $190,000 in loans into the opening. We used credit cards to buy groceries, gas, and pet food. A week before the business went down, the car we’d shared for a decade died, so we had to get a new one. Since we shared it, we decided only to purchase one. We said, “We’re business owners—we can afford a nice car.” So, we got a new Prius a week before the hurricane happened.
Now, we have a car payment, a mortgage, three maxed-out credit cards, and $190,000 of business and personal loans without a business to generate income to pay it all back.
But in the spirit that represents the goodness of Americans, they have showered us with support, stories of how people have recovered from similar situations, and donations to help us reopen. It’s overwhelming, and I don’t have the words to thank people enough.
A GoFundMe created by our friend Meredith Sims has already exceeded its initial goal of $180,000 by over $14,000. The funds raised will go toward rebuilding our bar, and people have contributed to my Venmo to help with personal expenses like our mortgage, car payment, and food. The generosity shown to us by people we have never met has restored our faith in humanity.
One of the reasons we created DayTrip was to facilitate a safe place for our employees and be the type of employers we always wanted. Boy Howdy Burgers, created by Christian Myers, were served at DayTrip, and it was the perfect combo for our community space. We were slated to open a coffee shop inside DayTrip on October 2, days after it was destroyed. We’d purchased a brand-new espresso machine, hired four new employees, and conducted training—all of which were swept away in the storm.
We are lucky enough to have a surplus of boots on the ground, but so many smaller communities still need help. Taylor Godleski and Joe Piorkowski, two men who helped design DayTrip, usually work as contractors. They have decided to take the next few months off of work to build mobile showers, clean destroyed businesses, and get supplies flown to people stranded where cars cannot.
They have a team of people helping them accomplish this wonderful rebuild. The kindness of people who have, and still are donating, allows Taylor and Joe to continue their work free of charge.
Hurricane Helene has been an unwanted chapter in the stories of many western North Carolina residents. In our loss, recovery, and resilience, we have seen that the LGBTQ community is more than the space we created to celebrate it. DayTrip isn’t done. We will rebuild, reopen, and come back stronger.
Brandon Davis co-owns DayTrip, an Asheville, North Carolina, bar and bodega with his husband, Davie Roberts. The former bartenders, who are both North Carolina natives, have been together for nine years and married for four. DayTrip is their first joint business venture.
All views expressed are the author’s own.
Do you have a unique experience or personal story to share? See our Reader Submissions Guide and then email the My Turn team at [email protected].
