After hosting some friends during their hurrication from Gustav last week, Margaret and I took the unexpected opportunity to follow them back for an impromptu visit to New Orleans. Being from the land of snowstorms and hibernation, I'm intrigued by the trials and tribulations of hurricane season. Giving into our curiosity, we took to the streets of the French Quarter to mingle with locals and gain a first hand account of the city's morale.


Last weekend's mandatory evacuation caused a clusterfuck of contraflow exiting the gulf, which has seemingly left citizens with mixed reviews. While the government's response was successful, the storm slowed down to a category two hurricane once reaching the gulf. The physical damage to New Orleans appears minimal. Previously flawed infrastructures were expectantly the most susceptive to Gustav's wrath, but the most notable impact is the massive power outage, which has left some without electricity for days and/or weeks to come.


The outage has given the presence of the Army Corps a lengthened purpose as the city has imposed curfew to deter mischief. However, some might argue that the men in uniform are preoccupied hanging out and flirting with locals.


Like millions of evacuees, my friends left New Orleans last Saturday night packed in their car with two dogs and a cat to embark on a miserable, crawling, twenty hour car ride to Austin. Residents have been vocal about their frustrations with the evacuation. Bar-side conversations yesterday consistently turned into individual recounts of horror stories resulting in a common conclusion apprehensive of future warnings. In this immediate aftermath, the event appears to many as a fire drill to compensate for the epic governmental failures of Katrina.


There's no doubt that New Orleans houses a special breed. For some reason every time I visit I am strangely reminded of the movie Big Fish. There is something inescapably enchanting about this city, from the colorful characters nestled into mundane storefronts to the overgrown subtropical plants sprouting through and bringing life to cracks and crevices of dilapidated buildings. I think it is that same unique contrast that spills into a culture that refuses to surrender in the face of adversity.


A recent discussion with a friend of mine questioned the habitability of New Orleans. He said that instead of evacuating countless times, people should take a cue to permanently relocate to less threatened locations. I argued that such a concept seems anti-American. Heritage, pride, and tradition have always trumped practicality.


Now the city's focus is on the next tropical storm destined for the gulf shores, Ike. What happens next is anyone's guess. One thing that is for certain is the strength of a society which continues to withstand despite the odds. For a city in the throws of uncertain weather and impending catastrophe, no one seems bitter. There is an overwhelming presence of community that unites and strengthens individuals with each shared experiences, and that's a beautiful occurrence.

Saturday was a true test of stamina. We steadily and consistently drank for a good thirteen hour run. Kate, Margaret and I started things off at a barbecue on the Endymion parade route. The barbecue was at a stunning house designed by Byron Mouton. I commented on the clean, rustic design, comparing it to something from the pages of Dwell, to find out that Mouton has in fact been featured in the magazine on three occasions. I definitely appreciate smart, minimalistic design. I actually got to meet Mouton after learning this background info, and thought that was a real treat.

The location of the house was conveniently positioned at the beginning of the parade route, which allowed us to casually enjoy ourselves without prematurely surrendering to the insanity of the crowds. It was a really relaxing scene and great weather. After Kate left us to go to work, I mingled and actually learned a lot about the logistics of Mardi Gras, which made me feel less bad about our freeloading.

I'd never taken the time to think about the traditional and socio-economical aspects of it all. Basically Mardi Gras is a series of parades and each one is thrown by a different carnival organization. The particular parade we went to yesterday was Endymion. It's the largest parade of them all, making it one of the most coveted organizations. Because of it's ranking, it is very expensive to join, I believe I was told it costs somewhere in the realm of $2,500 annually. I had never even considered the people on the floats, let alone think that they were paying to be on the floats. AND on top of that, they personally spend hundreds to thousands on the loot they toss. THEN get this, as they were setting up and unloading their floats, putting the beads and loot in easy to reach places, they carelessly threw the bags from which they came onto the ground because state prisoners will later clean the streets. Talk about a socio-economic break down. Interesting, huh? I think so.


As we walked around the floats before the parade actually started moving, it was a very family friendly atmosphere. This is primarily because it was still day time and not downtown. However, one group of guys did request that we flash them to initiate a newbie on their float. No dice, buddy. We told them to work on their approach strategy.

I found this video on youtube, and it's funny to me that we're somewhere in that mess. I tried to spot myself, we were pretty much front row, but no such luck. It was a really crazy affair and looking back I can't recall seeing any police regulating the event. New Orleans really is like a third world country sometimes with the lawlessness and the way these sort of events are common place. It's pretty awesome that it all went down smoothly. We ran around the fire, finished up our champagne and headed down to Frenchman. All in all, a wonderful way to kick off 2008.