my new orleans trip
As some of you may recall, I *had* tickets to see Rage Against the Machine play in New York this summer. However, I sacrificed my ticket because PM and I had bought them together but had since broken up--awkward. My friend David, quite the music affecianado and diehard fan of any number of bands, was insistant that I go see my favorite band. After all, who knew how long they'd be together and playing. He even found someone selling their ticket for $10 on Craigslist just moments before the show, but I was determined to wallow in my misery. Finally, he convinced me to see Rage at the Voodoo Music Experience (we'll call it Voodoo Fest for short) the weekend before Halloween.
We invited a few others to come along, but in the end it wound up being David and myself. No big deal. We can share a hotel like mature adults and not fuck up our friendship by fooling around. The hotel experience was a comedy of errors. As soon as you stepped off the elevator the temp. dropped 40 degrees; we were sure it was haunted. And procuring towels and coffee was like hunting for the holy grail. Eh. You get what you pay for. Still, we entertained ourselves that first night by snaking some free beer from the perpetually unmanned bar.
New Orleans is a wounded animal. I had not been back since Katrina and the deludge, so my expectations were iffy at best. Here and there, especially on the way to City Park (where Voodoo Fest was held), one could spot abandoned buildings just as easily as brand new, luxuary condos. Fuckers. Only two trolly lines were running. Canal Street was...wtf?!...clean and quiet. Part of the French Market was under construction. The French Quarter itself was limping, business-wise, but still the hive of cool finds and exciting oddities that I so love. I visited my favorite occult shop, ate/drank at Cafe Du Monde, and shopped for goth and belly dancing gear with equal ease. You know, the usual.
I was really, pleasantly, surprised at NOLA's friendliness. It's not as if anyone thanked us for our patronage of their crippled city, but it was an unspoken sentiment. Tourism has been NOLA's major source of income for years, and Voodoo Fest--the first music festival to kick back up in the city--probably brought in millions, not counting the immediate revenue of the event itself. It was strange not to be hassled or hustled (eg. "Hey! I bet I can tell ya where you got yo shoes!" answer: on your feet; to which you must pay or be cut). Strange also to notice a significant drop in the local population. I was prepared for that, but it was still a shock. No shock, however, that there were far less black locals...
No, I did not visit the 9th Ward. I couldn't tell you how to get there, in fact.
*more on this later, I need to get ready for work*
We invited a few others to come along, but in the end it wound up being David and myself. No big deal. We can share a hotel like mature adults and not fuck up our friendship by fooling around. The hotel experience was a comedy of errors. As soon as you stepped off the elevator the temp. dropped 40 degrees; we were sure it was haunted. And procuring towels and coffee was like hunting for the holy grail. Eh. You get what you pay for. Still, we entertained ourselves that first night by snaking some free beer from the perpetually unmanned bar.
New Orleans is a wounded animal. I had not been back since Katrina and the deludge, so my expectations were iffy at best. Here and there, especially on the way to City Park (where Voodoo Fest was held), one could spot abandoned buildings just as easily as brand new, luxuary condos. Fuckers. Only two trolly lines were running. Canal Street was...wtf?!...clean and quiet. Part of the French Market was under construction. The French Quarter itself was limping, business-wise, but still the hive of cool finds and exciting oddities that I so love. I visited my favorite occult shop, ate/drank at Cafe Du Monde, and shopped for goth and belly dancing gear with equal ease. You know, the usual.
I was really, pleasantly, surprised at NOLA's friendliness. It's not as if anyone thanked us for our patronage of their crippled city, but it was an unspoken sentiment. Tourism has been NOLA's major source of income for years, and Voodoo Fest--the first music festival to kick back up in the city--probably brought in millions, not counting the immediate revenue of the event itself. It was strange not to be hassled or hustled (eg. "Hey! I bet I can tell ya where you got yo shoes!" answer: on your feet; to which you must pay or be cut). Strange also to notice a significant drop in the local population. I was prepared for that, but it was still a shock. No shock, however, that there were far less black locals...
No, I did not visit the 9th Ward. I couldn't tell you how to get there, in fact.
*more on this later, I need to get ready for work*