Advertisement
Published: June 21st 2010
Edit Blog Post
Lucky Dogs
they work when you're hungry around 1 a.m. It's been about 15 years since the first time I visited New Orleans. The second time I went was a year after Katrina. It was obviously a completely different city. And, now, I got to visit too many days into the oil spill. Again, it's different, but it's still kicking with all it's random might. I say random because I've come to the conclusion that New Orleans is the most random city on the planet. One minute you're sipping a hurricane in the oldest bar in the nation (and a former blacksmith shop) the next you're talking to a man who claims to be a University of Virginia graduate who is now homeless, openly gay (which he wasn't in Virginia) and completely, utterly happy. The thing is you like this man and find him fascinating, so you buy him a drink, and he gives you your first earned beads of the night. That's New Orleans.
Next to the happy homeless homosexual is a man who claims to be from Iran who happens to be in town on BP's payroll to help deal with the oil cleanup. His wife and children are in Chicago, where he now lives. Homeless guy and
even the dead
dress up and have fun Iranian guy joke about what would happen to homeless guy in Iran --- being openly gay is apparently not an option in Iran. Then the laughter dies down (yes, morbid humor works here) when you ask the man what he thinks about the oil spill. How long will it take to plug up? and clean?
"Oh it's bad," he says, "really bad." He shakes his head and thinks about what he'll say next, but then gives up and says, "it's the worst ecological disaster ever. You will see." Then he wishes us well and walks away.
I could tell you about all the other random people and things we saw, but these two guys pretty much sum up why New Orleans has to keep on keeping on. It's a place of extremes, from random acts of kindness (and there are sooo many friendly strangers) to random acts of horrible violence (we've seen the pics and heard the media reports). There's rot and baked vomit next to fresh blossoms and unbelievable beauty. New next to the American version of ancient. Over-rated, over-boiled lucky dogs next to Gourmet. There's just about every genre of music to catch the pulse and
rhythm. And there's always, always the "wtf? did I just see what I think I saw?" It's the best and worst of who we are.
I'm tired and waiting for the final leg of my trip home to end, so I'll stop writing and just let the pictures I post tell the rest. But, I sure do love New Orleans.
Advertisement
Tot: 0.091s; Tpl: 0.012s; cc: 7; qc: 46; dbt: 0.043s; 1; m:domysql w:travelblog (10.17.0.13); sld: 3;
; mem: 1.1mb