My Million Dollar Road Trip!!

Chapter Three: New Orleans!

We drove south all day from Athens, slicing a diagonal piece out of the South. It was an uneventful drive, but it was quite beautiful; a lot of swamps, with cartoon-like trees, dead and black with vines hanging on the branches, like something out of a book. Causeways that were closer to the water than I've ever been in a car. We nearly picked up hitchhikers, then thought better of it.

We arrived in New Orleans around sunset, and it was about four hundred degrees in the shade. We found our hostel, a place called India House. It was outside the French Quarter but the area looked reasonably inert so we hauled our crap inside.

The interesting thing about hostels is how everyone's broke but not really. Everyone needs a shower and has been living out of a backpack for an indeterminate amount of time, but if you're travelling and are paying $30 a night to sleep in a bunk bed, how broke can you be. It's weird. One of the first things I did was try help some guy in the backyard get his three foot tall hookah to work (it didn't) and he looked crestfallen because he had paid "a shitload" for it.

My friend Mike lives in New Orleans. I use the term "friend" kind of loosely, I met him once in 1998 and we have a bunch of people in common and I liked him immediately when I met him, but that's it. but I got his number and he offered to show us around the city, possibly even let me guest bartend at the place he worked. We got there on a Tuesday night and I called him and the bar he was working at was having a punk rock ladies night and that's where he was going to be, so off we went. (Unfortunately his car had been broken into the day before so he needed the money and couldn't give up a bartending shift.)

The streetcar stopped by the hostel so we hoofed it downtown, found the joint, and found Mike and spent a couple of hours watching a band and catching up with him, while being fed far too much booze by our illustrious bartender. I was immediately shocked by how cheap alcohol is in that town - $1 a drink, $4 for a pitcher. I guess the New Orleans economy depends on people being drunk as hell and having a good time, but even so it was alarming. Eventually, after a night of adventures we somehow made it back to the hostel and collapsed.

Waking up the next morning and praying for death, we ventured out for breakfast with Mike in the hot hot sun and he took us to The Clover Grill, which is possibly the most hysterical place I have ever been.

It's the greasiest of diners - the staff all wear tshirts that say "WE LOVE TO FRY AND IT SHOWS" and things on the grill are cooked under a hubcap - and Earl served us, and I am convinced he is the funniest man in the world. For the first time I was kind of struck the whole time by the attitude of people that lived and worked in the French Quarter, which was this easygoing attitude and keen sense of fun. There was no moping about having a job frying eggs, it was just a great big party, and the joie de vivre oozed out of every pore of that city. I fell permanently in love.

We walked around and Mike showed us the French Quarter, as well as a computer shop that some of his friends own. Mike is one of those people who is completely in love with where he lives, and he told me "No matter who you are, you always have friends here, we're all broke but no one wants for anything." We walked around the French Quarter and were amazed at the colour and beauty of that place, and found Harry Anderson's magic shop. (Harry Anderson was on Night Court in the 80s and is one of my childhood heroes.) Unfortunately the magic shop was closed but his wife's book store was open. In it I found a book written by Anderson, opened it up and this quote was in big italic letters:

"Do not believe in miracles - depend on them."

Point taken.

New Orleans is littered with stores that sell voodoo everything, which is one of the things the city is famous for. I found a grisgris bag in a shop for $2 - it's a voodoo thing that's supposed to keep you focused on any task at hand. You fill it with objects related to what you're doing and wear it. In the spirit of where I was and what I was doing there I bought it. Mine has all kinds of crap in it, and I actually do carry it around with me:

Later that night Jeff and I ventured around Bourbon Street, which is a lesson in excess and drunkass tourists. The booze is cheap and plentiful and the money flows freely. We left our mark:

At the corner of Bourbon and Canal there is a band that plays jazz all night. The band is about eight guys on brass instruments and one on a big drum, and they're really young - highschool age - and they're GOOD. We came across them and stopped to watch. They stand there and play all night for money from passers by, and a huge crowd of singing, dancing, drunk people were emptying everything they could into these kids' tip box. It was amazing - they were raking in the money but I got the impression that if they weren't making a dime they'd be there anyway. I was busy filming the party and, unfortunately, didn't get any stills.

We got back to the hostel to discover that the windows had been shot out of every car on the block except ours because it was parked right out front.

We burned towards Texas the next morning.

ADDENDUM

Hurricane Katrina happened three weeks after we were in New Orleans. I watched the news for three days in disbelief as this amazing place seemed to come apart at the seams and threatened to be destroyed completely.

I had no idea where Mike was. I spent a lot of time thinking about those highschool kids playing jazz at Bourbon and Canal and where they were going to go to school, and Mike's friends with the computer business they'd managed to build.

I heard from Mike several days later, and he was in Baton Rouge with nothing but a change of clothes, no money, nothing, in a city that was on the brink of complete social collapse and where people were being advised to arm themselves. I sent him all the money I had immediately without a second thought - suddenly my student loans seemed so insignificant, at least I had four walls and a roof - and some other people did the same. It was a horrible situation, but I was glad to be able to help one person affected by that disaster.

He's since returned to the city, and after some checking on the web the computer shop and Clover Diner are rebuilding themselves. New Orleans taught me a lot, that money isn't everything and certainly doesn't guarantee a good time, that being kind to your fellow man is the most important thing you can do, and that a community that is strong and has a sense of community can overcome pretty much anything.

If you're ever in New Orleans, go to the Hi Ho Lounge (their site is down so that's a page with their address - they're rebuilding the place from the damage of the hurricane right now), say hi to Mike, tip him well, and tell him that Astrid says hi.

Click here for CHAPTER 4: AUSTIN!