NOLA Fiasco

I drove out of Gulfport in a daze. I approached the exit for New Orleans with a vague sense of dread. It began to rain as I crossed that span of I-10 that Katrina took out. It has reopened but repairs are still underway. That approach to NOLA is anything but conventionally attractive, still, it reminds you of nothing else you've seen anywhere. On the left, across the water, was a private home, circular, made in the likeness of a white castle. I couldn't get a photo of it. I was a bit surprised by the moderately heavy traffic. I didn't expect that at all and not at 3 in the afternoon in any case.The land began to look very different as well. The marshes were a burnt umber color, the trees were broken off at the top and looked scorched. It rained harder. I kept looking for an exit that I could find shelter at for the night. I had seen, and not completed come to terms with, all I cared to see. But...suddenly I was looking at New Orleans and the exit for Vieux Carre, the French Quarter, and Downtown including the Superdome. I left the road. The streets were slick and traffic now bumper to bumper. I saw St. Louis I Cemetery on my right and looked for a place to park. I had a mild interest in the French Quarter but my goal was talking to the residents and walking through New Orleans' fabled above ground cemeteries. Those of you who've never seen or heard of them probably think that's macabre. And normally I'm not one to wander in cemeteries, especially if I know no one there. I could spend an entire morning if not an entire day in the "Cities of the Dead", as New Orleans calls them. They are an art form. Above ground burials are the result of pragmatism and nothing more. As the world now knows, New Orleans is below sea level. Tourists are warned never to go to the cemeteries alone, but in groups. Mausoleums and statues conceal muggers and thieves. I wanted to chance it. But "Chance" had other plans for me. I couldn't find a place to park. In fact, I couldn't work my way out of the left lane. Finally at a major intersection I turned left toward the French Quarter and/or any parking I might find. There was none. At a stop light, a trolley passed by. I looked at the faces of the riders...blank, no expression at all, not talking, just staring vacantly. I drove St. Charles St. What few people were talking to one another seemed deep in conversation. The trees were festooned with Mardi Gras beads. Several of you who read Highway Heaven have urged me to be careful. When Angel and I talked, he asked if I was afraid to be driving to California alone. "No", I replied. "There's nothing to be afraid of if you're cautious." I looked around the streets. Time to exercise caution. I didn't feel comfortable parking in New Orleans, so I left and planned to come back Saturday morning. Back on I-10 the traffic was bumper to bumper. Crawling from Downtown to the outskirts (Kenner) took an hour. No accidents, just rain. I couldn't understand it. Continuing on, the swamp began to take on a Gothic look. It looked like nothing so much as a page from Edgar Allan Poe or Emily Bronte. Brooding, menacing, dangerous. Did I just hear a mad Heathcliff calling "Kathy, Kathy-y-y-y-y!" across the moors? I was disappointed but still planning to double back in the morning. I pulled off at St. Gabriel, the first place I felt at ease overnight. Next morning I asked an attendant at a Shell station if I could fill a gallon water jug for Danny. It required a key which she willingly provided. A glance at Danny's sweet face panting in the window was proof that it really was for my little friend. "How y'all doin' down heyah?", just flowed out of my mouth like the Southern girl I once was. I was embarrassed when I heard myself. "We OK. Jes tryin' ta come back." "Are you gettin' any help comin' back?" "Yeah." "Well, Nawlins sure looked busy last night. I had a deuce of a time gettin' out." "It's NBA All Star Weeken'...you din know?" Me? Is there any ball game but FOOTball? I feigned interest in basketball just long enough to celebrate the Miami Heat's title, but I have zero interest in it. "So that's why!!" "Yeah, you can't get a room or nothin'. Nawlins is sold out." "That'll help!" You bet it will. That, however, killed my plans to drive back. Rats! No conversations, no jambalaya, no beautiful cemeteries. I moved on to Baton Rouge, another city that once enchanted my mother more than a half century ago. The photos posted here are from the 'net. and not my own. They are taken from St. Louis I, Lafayette, and Metairie Cemeteries.

"But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness. Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. " (And try to use a little common sense on the road)

From the "Desiderata"