Fragile City Stories

I was going to write about vacation. And maybe I will eventually. But this past week has reminded me of a city I both love and hate, and I want to write about it.

I went to New Orleans when I was 5 to visit my aunt and uncle. I clearly remember him taking me to the levee. I remember that (and for some reason the layout of his house) because I was completely terrified by the levee. He held me up and I could see that water was ABOVE US. My parents later told me I was a mess for hours after that. I just remember that singular moment of terror- and it stuck with me for a long time. In fact I'm still a little scared of water for that very reason. It's primal- we don't belong in that shit. Things that eat us do. I love teasing a friend about his fear of sharks- but the truth is they terrify me as well. I'm just rational about it.

I've been to New Orleans probably 15 times in my life. A wing of my family settled there, and I'm a sucker for free places to stay. I've been 3 times since Katrina. And as detailed in the past, I check on the city when I'm there. I have certain places I go every time, just to see how they are. I don't know why I care- in college I once famously said I'd never go back there...but that was after a rough Mardi Gras that now is almost a fond memory.

So this week, a large portion of that wing of my family has relocated to Birmingham to wait out the storm. Well that's not true- they were coming up anyways for Labor Day, and are still here. They're waiting on the mayor to tell them its ok to come home. And power. They kind of want power in their house. Yesterday my cousin came over to use her laptop (parents are not wireless, but at least they aren't dial-up). She said something very revealing to me- she kind of wished her house had been destroyed this time. She's sick of it. They stuck to it through Katrina. They went back. They carried on, putting up with all the bullshit. But Gustav might have been it for them- its not that anything happened- its that they had to do this to begin with. I can't imagine psychologically what it must be like to have your home threatened like this. I don't consider New Orleans a home- but after Birmingham in some ways it is. It's certainly a base of operations for me. And I completely understand my cousin. Fuck it. Get the hell out of there.

In related news, the place I vacated to, Tybee Beach, is facing down Hanna. I have become death, destroyer of cities.

nola stage 3

so i'm in New Orleans for a wedding. First, let me say that these people know how to throw a wedding. I'm hopelessly, sloppy liquor drunk right now and stuffed full of exotic foods they just bring to your table. its no wonder everyone down here weighs 400 pounds. i had more jambalaya and gumbo than you ate last year- unless you really like those two foods. and shrimp. just shrimp everywhere. a shrimplosion.

i did some drive-bys of the streets I visited 4 months after Katrina (and then 1 year later). While there's still those head-scratching instances of "will they ever clean that shit up?" there's definately...progress. It doesn't feel quite as bad as it did my last visits- and shit, it's been almost 3 years so it shouldn't. But driving in, you still see houses where the owner said "screw it".

Of course, truth be told, I would have never lived in this god forsaken place. It's not that I hate it, but its just off. It smells funny. It's dirty. And the people are strange. They pride themselves on being the "European City of America." I call BS. I drive down the Causeway and I see
AMERICA. I see Center Point. I see suburban LA. It's all the same. Strip malls starbucks walmarts home depots mcdonalds. Don't kid yourselves, New Orleans. Sure the French Quarter is very European, but nobody actually goes down there who lives here. It's kind of like Vulcan. Do you ever go to Vulcan? Hell no you don't.

I'm trying to decide if I'm driving back tomorrow. There's jazz fest going on, but I'm not sure I want to get in the middle of it. I swore off festivals unless Led Zeppelin and the zombie Beatles are playing.

Before I leave, I'll drive through the 9th ward again. I did that as I left last year- and it was absolutely stunning. Over here in Metarie, there was some bad stuff- but the 9th ward was what you saw on the news. And last year- 1.5 years after it hit- it was one of the most striking things I've ever seen. I'm curious what it looks like now.

My father loaned me his car to drive down here. I resisted at first but the idea of delicious AC was too tempting. And driving down here (in 5.5 hours through rush hour- go ahead and try to beat that) was glorious. His car not only keeps you comfortable, when it hits a bump you don't go flying out of your seat. Also you don't have to hit the radio to make the front speakers work. I did miss that part. The point being- I need some wheels. I have the cash, now its just a matter of finding something. And I think at last count I had "settled" on about 15 different cars before researching my way out of wanting them. I'm sure you can draw some overarching conclusion about my entire personality when I admit that I have a tough time settling on things. Go ahead, I'll wait for you....

Anyways, I need a car. I remember when a friend of mine got a perfectly average little car. I snorted and said something about how PLAIN it was. I regret that. Because the more I look for a car with "personality" the more I realize that those cars aren't that reliable or have some problem or something.

ugh.

long blog. thank god for free hotel internet.

oh sweet GTA, I'm coming home soon.