Monday and we were crowded around the television, listening to the weatherman. Monday and we were listening to evacuation instructions and buying surplus D-cells. Monday and we were calling our relatives and searching for a gas station that was open. Monday and we were starting to panic.
Mary just moved in to town last month. Shes a public health student at Tulane. She has a background with volunteer work and a few years spent overseas with the Peace Corps. Most people with experience like that, they dont scare easily. Its not boot camp but the Peace Corps will toughen you up. Mary sat worried on the porch, fidgeting with an overflowing ashtray next to her. She didnt watch much television but like all of us she saw Hurricane Ivan slip between Cuba and the Yucatan Peninsula, hitting the hole and turning upfield like an NFL running back. She saw Mayor Nagin declare a voluntary evacuation. I dont think Mary gets scared easily. She lit another cigarette and asked with nervous eyes if I knew anyone else getting out.
This was Monday. On Monday I went to a bar to get a haircut. (In New Orleans, there is a bar where you get a haircut and a shot for ten dollars.) The hairstylist and I talked about Ivan, and I told her about the latest updates. I was at another bar earlier, checking the NOAAs latest forecasts, and I told her what I knew. (I had my laptop with me, and in New Orleans, a few bars have free wireless internet access for drinkers.) She finished up with me and I went to order another drink, where the bartender and three customers were talking about which parts of the Bywater flood first. I looked back at the hairstylist. The man sitting in the barbers chair was rambling about how he didnt have a cat carrier so he didnt know how he was going to evacuate.
Everywhere you went it was like this. Ivan. Ivan. Where is Ivan? Whats the path? Bob Breck said something about a sub subsomething ridge, so Ivan will hit us? Wont hit us? Everywhere you went people were asking about Ivan. Ivan was the most popular boy in school, Ivan was the life of the party, Ivan was sleeping in our beds with us and stealing the covers.
On Tuesday they closed the restaurant where I work. No one wants to eat haute cuisine while the windows are being boarded over with plywood.
On Tuesday the A&P closed early. They locked their doors and told their employees to come back Friday. The Winn-Dixie did the same thing. So did Robert Supermarket, Wal-Mart, and Sav-a-Center. On Tuesday the shops were boarded up and you couldnt find a decent cup of coffee anywhere. On Tuesday half of the gas pumps in the city were empty and people were selling bottled water at triple retail price.
Barry and Sarah were already planning their hurricane party. Scott had a case of Red Dog and enough Excedrin for a frathouse full of hangovers. I was late and lazy but I was able to buy two bottles of vin de pays doc and a six-pack of Warsteiner. 106.7 was on the air and accepting calls from drunkards the city over, checking in uptown, downtown, Metairie and the Best Bank. The Balcony Bar and Caf was boarded up but open for business and the bartenders there know me. Well whiskey onna rocks, the bartender says, they know me and I dont have to order, and he fills the glass with twice the amount of whiskey. I look at the glass, and I look at the bartender. Hurricane rations, the bartender says. I tip him well.
Wednesday I cleared a neighboring house of debris. Wednesday Kara made sure to put the trashcans out of the way where hurricane-force winds wouldnt reach them. Wednesday there was no traffic on the streets and the police were enforcing a 2 PM curfew. Wednesday was quiet.
Wednesday was quiet until the end. This was because Ivan never hit New Orleans. We got an eighth inch of rain and a few gusts of wind. We drank in the middle of Magazine Street which was calm and empty, laying on the asphalt, staring at the overcast skies. The cops chased us home and we watched a movie. Wednesday was a disappointment.
Mary just moved in to town last month. Shes a public health student at Tulane. She has a background with volunteer work and a few years spent overseas with the Peace Corps. Most people with experience like that, they dont scare easily. Its not boot camp but the Peace Corps will toughen you up. Mary sat worried on the porch, fidgeting with an overflowing ashtray next to her. She didnt watch much television but like all of us she saw Hurricane Ivan slip between Cuba and the Yucatan Peninsula, hitting the hole and turning upfield like an NFL running back. She saw Mayor Nagin declare a voluntary evacuation. I dont think Mary gets scared easily. She lit another cigarette and asked with nervous eyes if I knew anyone else getting out.
This was Monday. On Monday I went to a bar to get a haircut. (In New Orleans, there is a bar where you get a haircut and a shot for ten dollars.) The hairstylist and I talked about Ivan, and I told her about the latest updates. I was at another bar earlier, checking the NOAAs latest forecasts, and I told her what I knew. (I had my laptop with me, and in New Orleans, a few bars have free wireless internet access for drinkers.) She finished up with me and I went to order another drink, where the bartender and three customers were talking about which parts of the Bywater flood first. I looked back at the hairstylist. The man sitting in the barbers chair was rambling about how he didnt have a cat carrier so he didnt know how he was going to evacuate.
Everywhere you went it was like this. Ivan. Ivan. Where is Ivan? Whats the path? Bob Breck said something about a sub subsomething ridge, so Ivan will hit us? Wont hit us? Everywhere you went people were asking about Ivan. Ivan was the most popular boy in school, Ivan was the life of the party, Ivan was sleeping in our beds with us and stealing the covers.
On Tuesday they closed the restaurant where I work. No one wants to eat haute cuisine while the windows are being boarded over with plywood.
On Tuesday the A&P closed early. They locked their doors and told their employees to come back Friday. The Winn-Dixie did the same thing. So did Robert Supermarket, Wal-Mart, and Sav-a-Center. On Tuesday the shops were boarded up and you couldnt find a decent cup of coffee anywhere. On Tuesday half of the gas pumps in the city were empty and people were selling bottled water at triple retail price.
Barry and Sarah were already planning their hurricane party. Scott had a case of Red Dog and enough Excedrin for a frathouse full of hangovers. I was late and lazy but I was able to buy two bottles of vin de pays doc and a six-pack of Warsteiner. 106.7 was on the air and accepting calls from drunkards the city over, checking in uptown, downtown, Metairie and the Best Bank. The Balcony Bar and Caf was boarded up but open for business and the bartenders there know me. Well whiskey onna rocks, the bartender says, they know me and I dont have to order, and he fills the glass with twice the amount of whiskey. I look at the glass, and I look at the bartender. Hurricane rations, the bartender says. I tip him well.
Wednesday I cleared a neighboring house of debris. Wednesday Kara made sure to put the trashcans out of the way where hurricane-force winds wouldnt reach them. Wednesday there was no traffic on the streets and the police were enforcing a 2 PM curfew. Wednesday was quiet.
Wednesday was quiet until the end. This was because Ivan never hit New Orleans. We got an eighth inch of rain and a few gusts of wind. We drank in the middle of Magazine Street which was calm and empty, laying on the asphalt, staring at the overcast skies. The cops chased us home and we watched a movie. Wednesday was a disappointment.
la la la