[Read Lazlo's Complete New Orleans Weekend HERE]
Jan 15, 2007 5:28 PM – The Saints kicked the hell out the Eagles and the town exploded. People were dancing in the streets. Strangers were hugging each. Grown men were crying. In a word, it was awesome. I get out of my mind drunk dancing to a cover band with chick singers wearing Saints jerseys. Seeing as we are leaving to gut houses at 7:30am, our group heads back to the hotel but Cory and I are not having it. We decide it would only be right if we were the last ones out.
We walk out the side door of the hotel onto Bourbon Street, where we are greeted by a 8 piece brass band playing on the street to a crowd of about 1000. We dance on the streets until about 4 am. Highlights include making out with a random girl that was walking down the street and smoking a blunt with some dudes and, oh yeah, tried to grab Angelina Jolie’s ass. What the fuck was she doing here?
I pass out and get about 3 and a half hours sleep before heading back to the lower 9th ward to gut houses. This time the guy who lived in the home, Raymond, was there. I feel like shit as he tells me of his horrible experience 16 months ago. He woke up one night as his bed was floating around the room. He then had a harrowing day and a half journey to the Superdome where he saw more death and despair then anyone not involved in a war. But he kept going. He tells he wishes he could pay us and I am almost in tears. Summing up the frustration of the situation, he has had a FEMA trailer behind his home for a month that he has not had a key to get in it. They came, hooked it up and now he is waiting on an inspector to come and sign off on it. His home is probably going to have to come down, but it has to be gutted and inspected before the city will sign off on it being torn down.
That is when I realize that it is not government or agencies that are going to rebuild this city. It is people. Individuals who just don’t give a fuck what the government is doing, they are going to do it and they will not be stopped. Suddenly the Bear game I am missing means a little less (well they won so that helped). We finish up 2 houses making the total for the weekend 4. It is so small in the grand scheme of things, but I can not help feeling really good about myself. At dinner that night we are joined by some locals who talk about their experiences and MTV reporter Gideon Yago (surprisingly cool dude) who talks about what this situation was like compared to other disasters he has covered. The thing that kills me is everyone thanking us for coming. It feels like we have done so little, but to them it means so much to them.
We wrap up at dinner and head back to Bourbon Street to tear it up some more. We are all on a high that is pretty unexplainable. I notice a girl from our group is starting to wobble and a swoop in for the kill. We knock it out in my room and her room before I drop it like it is hot and head back to my room. Cory left a girl, who earlier that night I was told we were going to tag team, naked and passed out in his bed but he is nowhere to be found. I get a hold of him and he is at the Harrah’s Casino wanting nothing to do with the chick. I head over and play some back jack until about six and I somehow manage to leave up by about a bill and a half. I go back to the hotel room which is now populated by 6 people including 2 chicks I do not know.
I did not get up until 3 the next day when everyone from my group is already gone. I shit and shower and strap a hoodie and last nights jeans on for a last time walk around the French Quarter. I grab a slice and a hurricane and have a meaningful chat with a local and try to recapture my weekend. I realize I can not so I leave you with this…
Go to New Orleans. See the town. Talk to the people. Eat the food. Drink the booze. Do whatever, but just go. They need it as much as we need to do it for them. If you are or have ever been a Sorry Drunk in the slightest, go show New Orleans some love. Trust me, it will be worth it.
This has been Lazlo saying, Make Levees Not War.