Second hand drive to fate

I just returned from a failed expedition to find a really good wool coat for the winter. The objective was pretty damn simple: go to Burlington Coat factory, look at coats, return home. We all know that most things are not as simple as they seem.

I called the trustworthy mom up to ask what locales on the Westbank would be open for business. Ever since Katrina, most places have been boarded and closed (like Mr. Burlington), leaving the only place to go to being the dreaded Metairie/Kenner. There’s just so many extra folk around. New Orleans is starting to have traffic that can vie with Los Angeles. It has become that bad.

well, after explaining to mom that “no. Burlington will not be opening anytime later this afternoon” she suggested the Riverwalk mall. For those of you readers who are unfamiliar with this shopping center, it’s located downtown, right along the Mississippi River, on the edge of the french Quarter. Mainly a mall put there with the mission to attract tourists, us locales have heard that it has just recently opened up its’ doors. I figured what the heck, and decided to wait in the traffic that laid ahead that would end with me to the Riverwalk.

Now this was to be the first time since Katrina in which I went downtown. Prior to her, I would go down at least every other week, no fewer than once a month. i did work in that area for the past six years, though I was just recently transferred to another part of the city about six months ago. What I’m mainly getting across here is that downtown is like a second home to that. heck, I’m more familiar with that area than i am with my own home town!!

The route I ended up taking to the mall with be down a street called Convention Center Boulevard which, if you haven’t figured it out yet, ran along the Ernest Memorial Convention Center. It was the quickest route to the mall. Un-expectantly, my stomach dropped the second I begun to turn onto the street.

It wasn’t in disarray, though there were parts that still needed a little mending, but what happened was I was suddenly flooded with the images that CNN streamed violently across the nation (and world’s) television sets during the days that followed our levees breaking. I kept seeing images of hundreds of people waiting in misery for help that took too damn long to come. I recollected the pictures and stories of bodies that were left dead among the stretch while people waited. I felt sick.

I drove on, looking for an entrance to a nearby parking lot, but do to the way cars were parked in a mixed up fashion, it was had to find an entrance, or to even see if it was opened. the search led me into the French Quarter, where my stomach dropped even more. It wasn’t like the streets were abandoned, but compared to pre-Katrina, it was eerily empty. Harrah’s casino was boarded up as if never to reopen again. Construction crews and machinery were scattered about. There were few cars and few people to be seen and I’m pretty darn sure I saw a tumbleweed roll across Canal Street. I couldn’t take it. I barely drove ten blocks downtown, but I already wanted to head back. I did.

I sit here writing, realizing that maybe I’m not really ready to satisfy my curiosity by driving through New Orleans east. I realize now why the bars are the current most popular attraction with us locals. I realize now that I should’ve taken a different route downtown. C’est le vie.