Disaster Recovery

Labor Day weekend: My friends Scott and Ryan (and myself) decided that it would be a really good idea to hit New Orleans right about the time that Hurricane Gustav made an appearance as well. Being a "seasoned" hurricane enthusiast and having lived through my fair share, (Andrew, Ivan and Fran) I figured all we'd have to do is pack the car back up (we drove) and come back. No biggie, right - I'd been through this before. So, we got a rental car, loaded up our several pairs of shoes and over- stuffed luggage and headed out. I'll admit: yes, I pack like a chic. But having been through a monsoon in New Orleans last year, I wasn't taking any chances of looking like a drowned sewer rat, not even if a hurricane were to drop by for a spell.

Scott, my second year travel buddy to the event known as "Southern Decadence" and I still laugh about my ingenious plan of running like mad men through the cobblestone streets of the French Quarter in the pouring rain. Our shoes, needless to say, were ruined by the time we got home. Scott and our other travel companion, James, had to buy new shoes the following day. I still thought it was worth the experience to hear the both of them squeal like frightened women all the while running to our hotel on Canal Street. Okay, so I am easily amused.



Southern Decadence is akin to gay Mardis Gras in New Orleans. Boys and girls (well if you want to call them girls) come to New Orleans for a scandalous weekend of booze, flashing in the streets and pretty much all-out hedonism. The Southern Baptists hate it, so therefore it's a real blast for me and I try to attend each year. Besides, like I need a better reason to drink right now, I have cancer... So, back to the debauchery. Mostly, guys stand shirtless (and sometimes pants less) in the street at St. Ann and Bourbon, also known as the "Lavender Line", where all the gay bars are. Not just gays, but everyone loves to come through to see what kind of mess the drag queens, leathermen, bears and circuit boys all have going on in the streets. The two bars facing one another are called "The Bourbon Pub" and "Oz". They're really great clubs, but highly over-priced at night on holiday and events weekends. I don't really care for strippers enough to pay a $20 dollar cover, thanks.

See, it's a "gay" ole time!


So, we left on the Thursday before, with the impending storm headed to the same vacation spot and took our chances. It was my idea to leave on Thursday to miss the weekend's traffic and to give us a head start on the weekend. I needed it, so did my friends. We finally got on the road about 4:30p after a small chore of herding cats (literally) for my friend Ryan. He'd let his roommate's cat out and the damned thing took refuge under the new deck he had just built. Note to readers: a cold glass of water will help get a cat out from under a porch when you're rushed. The drive was long, a little bitchy, and man can those two eat! We arrived in New Orleans at about 1:30am local time and were exhausted. I got my own bed, WOOHOO!

The next morning we got up, went to the gym and had a nice breakfast.

New Orleans is a really unique city, it's one of my favorites. It also has the uncanny ability to allow people to drink more than they otherwise would humanly be able to. Shortly after breakfast, we started drinking. We drank, then we drank some more and then amazingly, we drank even more than that. After that, we drank a little bit more. My liver hurts just thinking about how much I drank, even though I really can't remember exactly how much that was. If my doctor is reading this... well... sorry.

New Orleans also happens to be a very friendly city and it's a good thing, cause I'd probably talk to a street sign after the amount of alcohol I had consumed that day. So we walked around, drunk, in the French Quarter ogling all the sites and watching the Southern Baptist torment all the guys who were confident enough to taunt them by feigning lewd acts in the street or other public displays of affection. It was a good day. More walking around, a little chatting with the locals and not-so-locals and we decided to go back to the hotel for a little disco nap. On the way back to the hotel, we noticed sand bags, some boarded up windows and lots of signs on ATM's stating that the machines had been emptied due to the hurricane. Even having been through hurricane preparation in several of other cities in which I had lived, it was still a bit frightening and made me uneasy. Plus, since we had been out getting inebriated all afternoon, we really hadn't seen much of the weather report. We had no idea the path of the storm was a straight shot right towards us and all the other folks who had traveled to The Big Easy that weekend.

So, we napped.

We went back to the hotel where we were staying and rested for a few hours and to let some of the alcohol process out of our system. After our catnap, we went back out to the Quarter (insert drank some more) and laughed it up till the wee hours of the night. Scott went back first (he has a small bladder) and called me shortly after getting back to the room to let me know that we'd received a letter from the hotel asking us to be out by noon the next day. Bummer.

So, after hearing that I had one more drink. I mean come on! We were leaving the next day - it was mandatory that I toast off the city. Then, I made my way back to the hotel. Gustav was predicted to hit New Orleans on Monday evening or early Tuesday and St. Bernard's Parish, the area of New Orleans hit the hardest three years ago by Katrina had evacuated earlier in the day. The hotel was making preparations, like the rest of the city, to be hit by another category 4 hurricane.




















On Saturday, the Mayor was on virtually every channel and the city made it's first evacuation preparations by asking the elderly and handicapped to get out on the first wave of buses transporting evacuees. People were taken to evacuation locations all over the city and in the surrounding counties. Thank God we drove. We packed up the car and hit the road about 12noon. Traffic was surprisingly steady, but it still took 2 hours to cross Lake Pontchartrain leaving New Orleans.

On the long drive home we all discussed our minor irritation and disappointment with the weekend and though I could say that my weekend was ruined I don't look at it that way. I could also say that my trip was a washout and be all negative about it. Truth is, I had more fun in the 24 hour period with two of my best friends than I'd had in months. As the city shut down and boarded up, we partied it up like a modern day Sodom and Gomorrah. I'll admit, I had a great time and I am not ashamed... The walls may have been tumbling down, but we were ready for it and when we had to, we packed it up and we left. No harm, no foul.

What did I take back from my Hurricane Hoedown? Well, I realized that we all need a little disaster relief from time to time. Sometimes in the midst of adversity, right when the proverbial storm seems the darkest, all you need is to let loose. And who better to do that with than two of your best (drinking) buddies. New Orleans may have been a poor choice for our Labor Day excursion, but we made the most of it. So thanks, Scott and Ryan. You were the National Guard that day. When Hurricane Geoffrey was spinning wildly out of control, you were there with your fatigues and your bullhorns ready to make sure the levy held. Luckily, it did and it continues to weather the storm that's raging in my lymphatic system. You made my weekend and though I missed the beignets and the pralines, I had a great time. Thanks!

Good night.