Another new state, another new city. The Reeds keep the moving trucks rolling.
It’s been what? A month? 6 weeks? No matter the time, the city of New Orleans is grabbing hold—tightly with her dirty, gritty, unwashed hands. Everything Norfolk wasn’t, New Orleans is. A soul, a heart, and a filthy mind. Oh, thank god for that.
As my epitaph will someday read, “It seemed like a good idea at the time,” and that really holds true here. Everything in New Orleans is a good idea—except that is, for a few very important things:
- Mascara. Don’t wear the normal expensive stuff, ever. Unless you want it constantly scratching your eyes or running down your face, skip that shit. Go buy the bright pink CoverGirl WATERPROOF kind for $5.99. It’s hot here. It rains here. You’ll sweat here.
- Heels. All the fancy spiky things are either bound to break your neck or meet their own untimely demise. We here in NOLA spend our money on food, music, alcohol, and the preservation of old things. We do not spend any bit of cash on roads and sidewalks. Think bricks, cobblestones, and simple neglect. Would you really do that to your pretty shoes?
- Clothing. Yep, it’s a city known for debauchery and that’s partly due to the lack of clothing that people wear. I’ve quickly learned that there is no such thing as “too few clothes” in August. Have another drink and you’re less likely to care that the person on the next barstool is only in their underwear. They’re cool and they’re likely cooler too.
- Cars. Our insurance skyrocketed upon moving here and now we know why. The roads are bad, the streets often flood, and drivers here suck. Hard. More often than not our vehicle stays parked, patiently waiting for a rainy day or for Oy to need transport to camp. Have bikes; will travel.
- Bourbon Street. If you visit, and you demand, we will go. Just know that everything else about New Orleans is better than anything you will find on Bourbon Street.
A month? Six weeks? Irrelevant. Moving here was one of the best damn things to happen to us. We are madly, deeply, utterly in love with this filthy girl. It may take a hurricane to get us out of here.