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The Posturing Of Us
I sure am a glutton for punishment and to prove it I went to my third city council meeting yesterday. The chauffeur again snuck up on me sitting in my truck here in the Rocheblave driveway, where in the daytime under the bright sunlight you hardly even miss the electricity we have been missing for four months, and said, you wanna go? and I said, no, not really. He said he was going to ride his bike down and I brought a bike back from Virginia and what could it hurt to have a bike ride to City Hall? Chauffeur’s bike has no air in the tires so we went in his van instead and split the five dollar parking fee in the lot across the street.
We went inside the chamber of City Hall and took seats, one apart from each other because guys who aren’t gay are always trying to prove they aren’t, to each other, and to anyone else who would point us out and say—look at those two gay guys sitting right next to each other in this nearly empty hall.
There had been a protest of 9th Ward residents and activists out front and we decided to go watch a bit of that, since we were 20 minutes early and these things never start on time anyway. A well-spoken woman with the most amazingly beautiful and gleaming parted down the middle afro was at the mike and I heard most of what she said but to tell you the truth was a little distracted by the way the sunlight was refracting off the tip ends of her full afro, as the wind blew it one way and then the other.
She was stating that the 9th Ward is not receiving the same recovery attention as other parts of the city with the implication that racism could be at the core of this. She also stated that the 9th Ward is perhaps the single largest black neighborhood in America, not to be confused with the 6th Ward (Treme) which is often considered the oldest black neighborhood in America.
We went back to the chamber after several more speakers expressed their discontent, and took our seats.
Mayor Ray Nagin wasn’t there (although the mayor of Pittsburgh was) and so at large city-councilman and president of the council, Oliver Thomas, led the proceedings, with what looked like a white tipped phallus to his right but which closer inspection proved to be councilman, Eddie Sapir.
We had to stand up and listen to a prayer from a local pastor who by tonal quality of his voice alone could prove God’s existence, and then the pledge of allegiance (can we sit down now?), and then (please, can we sit down now) a recorded version of the National Anthem complete with the hokiest big screen multi-media presentation I have ever seen.
I forget what is Greg Meffert’s title but he is Ray Nagin’s chief brain in charge of big stuff and the council members grilled him very much in the fashion of a senate investigating committee and he held his own very well I think, even though the white tipped phallus had him stuttering a little at the end by trying to get him to say was he or was he not speaking for the mayor. It was a trick question and in no way benefited any of us who were there to get some hard facts about just what the fuck is going on in this crippled city.
There was a surprise visit from Governor Blanco and she at least spewed out some facts which may or may not actually lead to beneficial changes for the future of New Orleans. Time will tell if Blanco will lead us to any positive changes here.
The chauffer I can tell sort of likes the appearance of importance that is implied by all the council members whispering to each other and taking cell phone calls while other speakers are on, and would periodically take calls (what the hell man, that phone of yours ain’t got a vibrator function?) and tell the person he couldn’t talk now, he was in a meeting.
I had to leave before Governor Blanco finished because I was having a minor depressive meltdown. I have been doing so well for awhile. I had just yesterday told my nephew’s wife that I haven’t cried in a few weeks. I wasn’t about to cry but I was getting a good dose of the material which fuels that sense of helplessness which leads to the wet boo-hoo.
The chauffeur had stepped out before me and was in the ante-chamber talking on his cell phone when I stepped out. There are often big-time city players out in the hallways during these council events and chauffeur likes to overhear and sometimes engage these people. I went to the bathroom and a guy I don’t know but have seen in the newspaper over the years was washing his hands in the gentleman’s room to the right of the ante-chamber. He was talking to a man who was zipping up his trousers and said, laughingly, “is this perfect or what, here in City Hall the hot and cold water taps are reversed.”
I went outside into the perfect sunshine and made a call, and told someone’s voicemail that I couldn’t meet with them today about a possible job because I was just too busy. I didn’t know where the chauffeur was but I felt like walking so I thought about walking home. I called the chauffeur to tell him this and he said he was ready to leave too, and came out front 30 seconds later. We drove over here to Rocheblave and he immediately got engaged with a hardwood floor guy who may do some work to his flood damaged buckled wood floors.
I keep forgetting to eat so when I started getting dizzy I drove over to the Broad Street Discount Market for a po-boy. It was too crowded so I headed back over to Rocheblave and noticed those people out front of that pretty church at Iberville and Broad had lunches set up on a table so I went and got a couple for me and the chauffeur. They each weighed much heavier than the Red Cross lunches, which recently barely seem to weigh more than the Styrofoam container they come in. The lunches consisted of six or eight barbecue chicken wings, carrots, instant mashed potatoes, and some cooked apple slices. And they came with a can of Welches grape juice, which reminded me of the communion wine served at the Methodist church of my youth. After lunch I tilted back the passenger seat in my truck and took a little nap. The chauffeur came over and when he saw me laid back like that he said, “man, I want to be just like you when I grow up.” I said, “chauffeur, don’t aim too high.”