Chris’ vision of the romantic beauty of New Orleans was shattered as they left the interstate and drove through the depressed eastern side of the city and pulled into the tiny, cramped RV Park. A solid metal fence surrounded less than two acres of flat ground and in the center rose a two-story multi-colored brick box housing the office and residence of the owner. It was evident that multiple rows of train tracks lay immediately beyond the back fence by the numbers of cargo cars Chris noticed when they entered the Park. She and Jay anticipated multiple nights of interrupted slumber during their week-long stay. A couple of weak trees struggled to survive amongst four rows of concrete slabbed sites that fell far short of accommodating the length of most RVs in residence, including Sonny, whose nose projected at least three feet into the park roadway from the best site Chris and Jay found for it.
The good news was the park had a killer wi-fi signal that expedited their time at the computer which turned out to be extensive. The tail end of a massive ice and snow storm that ripped across the country in early February roared through the south and kept Chris and Jay holed up for three days; their only respite a Katrina damage driving tour and lunch with Ned Peak, a Coast Guard friend of Jay’s from his Houston days.
Ned had lived in New Orleans for more than 10 years and survived Katrina’s devastation. He was a perfect tour guide, taking them to the 9th Ward – one of the area’s most affected by the collapse of the canal levees. Of the lots that contained houses, most stood vacant, their decrepit, sometimes tilted condition made one wonder what invisible force kept them upright.
The houses that had been repaired appeared habitable – but just. The shining stars of the neighborhood were completely new, ultra modern houses which Ned said were constructed with aid from Hollywood stars such as Brad Pitt. The all Hispanic members of the construction crews in the area confirmed to Chris and Jay that the “poor, oppressed residents of color” persisted in their victim status and wouldn’t lift a finger to help rebuild “their” city, waiting instead for Federal handouts.
After a scrumptious lunch at a little hole-in-the-wall restaurant, where another Coast Guard buddy Drew Gerfin met us, Ned continued the tour through the business district, pass the World War II Museum, through the French Quarter and back home. Having their own personal chauffeur and tour guide was a real treat for Jay as he didn’t have to maneuver Big Red with its “truck size” turning radius through the narrow city streets.
These tile plaques are mounted on many street corners in the French Quarter.
The famed Bourbon Street.
More than a month before, the residents decorated for Mardi Gras.
Some of the happy people found in the French Quarter.
Thursday, their fourth day in town, they decided to brave the waning storm and in the afternoon, set out to tour the French Quarter. Minding their own business and driving in the right lane on the interstate, Jay cringed when he noticed a rock drop from a rusty hulk of a concrete truck, bounce and careen straight toward him. When it struck the windshield and left a star crack, Jay reverted back to his Coast Guard days and, with Chris his only audience, let the truck driver know exactly what he thought of him - #*&^%$#@!!#%^&*!!!! He pulled alongside the truck Chris wrote down the company information and their jaunt into town was terminated as they dealt with the bureaucracy of the insurance industry. It was just as well since they were expecting Peter Troedsson for dinner and Chris had to shop for and prepare the meal.
In the early 1980s, when Jay was a Commander at Coast Guard headquarters in Washington, D.C., Peter, a new Ensign fresh out of Officer Candidate School, sought him out to talk about a career in aviation; which they did over lunchtime sandwiches on Jay’s sailboat that was kept at a nearby marina. Over twenty years later, Captain Troedsson, the commander of Group Astoria in Oregon (where Chris’ daughter lived and worked) ran into Jay at the 2007 Pterodactyl (Coast Guard Aviation Association) business meeting and the friendship was renewed. His current assignment was at the District 8 Headquarters in New Orleans and they couldn’t be in the area without scheduling a visit and the evening passed quickly with good conversation, stories and laughs.
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