New Orleans, LA

"I'm going to need two pair of shoes
When I get through walkin' to you
When I get back to New Orleans"

I'd flown to the Mississippi gulf coast. This was worse. As one flies over the gulf and into the New Orleans airport, spirits, old and new, chill the air inside the plane.

On the ground, initially, that chill is replaced by the heat and humidity that was so stifling to so many who went days without the simplest humaitarian gift of fresh food and water after Hurricane Katrina, just over a year ago.

The Louis Armstrong International Airport is in good shape. There's no hanging insulation or obvious leaking or flooding. There are nice enough airport restaurants and bars, sparsely populated with business men, government employees, and military personnel.

The 15 mile drive from the city to the airport lets the ghosts back in. Destruction is still evident in the residential areas. Homes, businesses, and warehouses are scraped apart and smeared across city side streets. A glimpse of the Superdome brings the first serious chill as you no longer just feel ghosts, you see apparitions. Cemeteries, known for their age, are dotted with too much fresh, new marble. Memories, images of bodies strewn on city streets and nursing homes too feeble to move.

I marvel at the drains, manhole covers with words like "Drain" and "Water."

Downtown to the city's center and the French Quarter to my hotel. There's movement and a bit of life left, hammers and nails replace the dead wood with fresh pine. The sex shops and burlesque of the quarter still thrive.--If this was God's wrath for New Orleans' seedy side, then this is no modern day Sodom. Sex still sells on Bourbon St.

So much popular culture here. I see streetcar tracks and hear the echo of Stanley yelling for Stella.

"I got the ways and means to New Orleans
I'm going down by the river where it's warm and green
I'm gonna have a drink, and walk around
I got a lot to think about"

I get to my hotel and then I just can't seem to stay in and stop walking, even though it's pushing
90 degrees out and the humidity is just dripping. I'm staying on Proyas St. I walk up to Canal St and around, searching
for Bourbon St. Then a sudden storm pops through the Canal Street calm, and I duck into a store front
with lots of touristy stuff, beads and masks and maps and chicory coffee to ride out the storm.

I duck into a great sandwich shop back down on St. Charles to get a sandwich.  A pleasant older woman
makes a Mickey po boy for me--fresh ham and roast beef on crusty bread with an Abita Turbo Dog for lunch. My first

I go out again and walk up and down St. Charles to the Garden District around Tulane University. I see Emeril staring
out at me on 50 TV's and I become very uninterested in eating at his restaurant. Later, I'd discover "it's good, but you have to
"...stop at Burger King after."

Confusion sets in, I get tired, and I'm up in my room talking to Dawn and sort of napping and fetching for directions simultaneously. I'm here, but I don't
know where to eat or what after exploring side streets. I need a map. I have Dawn look things up on MapQuest again, or
Streets and Trips, I don't remember. We talk for awhile and then I determine to nap and then dine
again around 4:30. I can't sit still, and I've now got a bead on the French Quarter again so I fall out of
bed and start going through hotel room drawers in search of a guide or a map. Duh. I find both in the
top desk drawer, clean the sweat of walking and sleep off a bit, and step out to find more food.

I find Mother's...a charming little counter service joint on Proyas St. A few people are there, supping on
po boys and gumbo. I order a combo platter with gumbo, jambalya, and red beans and rice accompanied
by greens and a light and lovely potato salad. I enjoy, but I need more coke. The staff wasn't overly
friendly, but the food was wonderful, and I sat fascinated by pictures of boxers and presidents dining
in the same space as me.

My thirst would persist. I wandered into the French Quarter and again found myself amazed by its
decadence. Open nudity on the window ads, ads for crude sex acts performed live on stage, sex, sex shops,
nice art shops...I'm overwhelmed. I find the bar where Calexico is supposed to play. I go in , but cna't find
anyone to ask them about tickets. It's too late anyway, I need to be on more than I will be on
than if I stay out all night.

I just walk and explore some more, circles and side streets--it's beautiful and strange and sad. I understand
the appeal for decadent vampires in search of aristocratic flesh. Only thing is, it's all from out of town now.

I get back to the hotel again and crave a drink or a coffee or something. I walk down to the coffee shop
just around the corner from my hotel and it's closed. I learned that a lot of service type businesses in
New Orleans now close early due to a shortage of working people to staff them.

My thirst gets the best of me and water just won't do. I walk down to the wal-greens I'd seen earlier
on Canal Street and fill a bag with cold drinks and cookies. I enjoy those back in the hotel for awhile, and then I
step out, refreshed, in search of a stiffer night cap. There's lots of noise in the city. The Saints are
back in town and everyone is celebrating. Their first game back in the Superdome is this very night
against Atlanta's Falcons. I usually couldn't care less about professional football, but I'll turn an eye
toward New Orleans tonight.

I find a hotel bar around the corner and sit down. The bar tender ignores me, favoring a group of drunken
business people who are obnoxiously interacting. I let him know I'm displeased and leave, turning the corner to explore
LaFayette Square--there's a party there, plus, the building I'm working in tomorow is there, so I duck in
to scope out both. The Saints are being welcomed back into the city, and there's already a pep rally for
Monday night's game even a week out. There's players, and cheerleaders...a crowd and beer...a band with horns--
so I hang out there in the square for awhile, relaxing and enjoying the music and a drink.

I venture back to the hotel..cookies...cola....sleep.

I get up in plenty of time to teach the next day. I walk over and have an enjoyable day with the legal
librarians of the 5th circuit court of appeals. My info packets didn't arrive for them, so we improvised a great class
based more on their needs than the set class I had in mind for them--so that worked out well.

I went with a group of about ten librarians for lunch at La Clote Brasserie--a damn fine joint with a great lunch
special. Three courses for $15.

I finish up and fly back. At the airport, I check out a cajun hot dog stand. Interesting. I fly back with a terrible
headache. It's a shame. Oddly enough, with all the flights I've been on in my life, this was my first night landing. It was really beautiful
to see Atlanta from the air, I wish my head had felt like staring out at the lights more.

I drove home on cruise control, barely able to hold up my head. I made it, relaxed, and then had a very hectic
rest of the week.