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Email From NOLA IIt
The point of going on the road, aside from the obvious one of reaching a particular destination, is to put behind you all that is in front you. And by doing this gaining useful perspective about your past and present and maybe even an insight or two about your future. And if you are really lucky you may even get to trade in your perspective and insight for valuable cash prizes.
So a hundred miles northeast out of New Orleans and I'm still seeing broken toothpick pines trees along the side of the road. What a storm. Fifty miles later I'm still seeing it but is seems to be thinning out considerably--the evidence of K's jackbooted footprint.
I stopped in Mississippi and had Mexican food. Scary cheap looking place on the outside but nice interior and salsa not great and chips burnt but still I start having this optimism about my coming meal, with a complete disregard to the obvious signs which would normally lead one away from optimism. From left to right the plate consisted of chile con carne, enchilada, rice, crispy taco standing up wedged in rice, tamale. The left side of the plate was cold and the right side was hot. Hot tamale, cold chile con carne. Carne just means meat, I think, but I've never had chile con carne that was chicken. Cold cubes of chicken with an orange glowing sauce on the sweet side. The enchilada was warm, almost edible, the rice was mushy, the taco was average but the taco meat was not of a color found in nature. The tamale was, as already mentioned, hot, but looked sort of canned and was covered with the same orange-glow sauce which decorated the con carne. Do you want to take that with you? the waiter said motioning towards my half-eaten plate of food. Naw, thanks.
I thought this Mississipi community a hundred fifty plus miles from New Orleans must be the beginning of a world unaffected by Katrina but on the way out of town I noticed all the blue, temporarily tarped roofs.
About 200 miles out of New Orleans and Mississippi starts looking kind of pretty, and hilly. Starting to forget New Orleans. But 300 miles out and I am seeing many a trailer being hauled southwest, all of them resembling the many trailers already starting to show up in driveways and on sidewalks, vacant lots and park ground, in New Orleans.
Four Hundred miles out and not so many trailers to be seen, but my heat goes out in the truck, and that reminds me of New Orleans.
Five Hundred miles out and I'm stopping for gas and I get collared by this dude in a beat Cadillac and he uses the prop of his duct-taped radiator hose to bum five bucks off of me, which sort of reminds me of New Orleans.
Six hundred miles out and I'm driving with gloves on my hands and a skull cap on my, uh head, and a gravel truck passes then pulls in front of me long enough to ding my windshield, twice.
About 650 out, in Tennessee somewhere, and I stop for a cheeseburger, with hashbrowns, coffee, and a slice of chocolate cream pie. I was reshuffling my Ipod in the parking lot after eating and good thing too because it gave the waitress time to bring to me my jacket, which had in it my secret decoder ring, and various top secret documents. The jacket used to belong to a New Orleans street kid.
Seven hundred miles and I know I'm going for the whole shot, 999 miles, door to door. I get behind a tractor trailer full of dirty socks, which is bad news, but the heater started working again, which is good news. I passed the truck and my heater went out.
There is snow on the ground (but not the road) the last few hundred miles and I almost think it not wise to take the New Market/Luray route because of the two mountain passes but it's the shortest route and me so tired. When I see no snow or black ice on the road I bump the one hitter to take off the edge created by the many different energy drinks I was using to fuel my purposeful progress. I did a bunch of winding up and down while forwarding the Ipod selections because I'm tired of all those songs already. I coasted to a stop at the top of the hill at 4 a.m. and went up in the bighouse and crashed hard, leaving my body once but its the only one I got so I came back.
It's cold in Rappahannock, Virginia. You know what that reminds me of?
Do I miss New Orleans? Not at all.
The reason I don't miss New Orleans is because I don't, actually, ever leave it.