Just a couple of things:
Fist of all, is anyone else just tired? I mean really tired. Tired in a possibly brand new form that tired has never taken before? It may be that we’re witnessing, first hand, the evolution of tired. A new, more complex form of tired that is impossible to fight off and to which sleep will no longer remedy. Fascinating!
I’ve picked up a few new driving habits as well. I now look both ways when crossing a one way street because there’s a better than 50/50 chance some fucktard is flying down the street at 60 miles an hour the wrong way, talking on their cell phone, chomping on a hamburger, and drinking Jack Daniels right out of the bottle. I am more than a little bothered by this. Luckily, the NOPD feels no need to enforce anything resembling traffic laws - though they will frequently pull over attractive young women for doing very little, if anything, wrong. We need a new police department.
I also now wait to see if crossing traffic at an intersection will actually stop when the light turns red having almost been t-boned on three occasions in the last four days for assuming they will. My frustration with the traffic in New Orleans has lead me to keep my shotgun in the trunk, loaded. If I am in an accident where someone was clearly being an asshole I will crawl my bleeding, broken ass out of the car and open fire on everyone and everything around. If people don’t want to play by the rules in New Orleans, then I suppose I would be a fool to not follow suit.
And lastly on this sad, little, list of bullshit is really more of a story. I was sitting in The Saint getting drunk and wishing for the return of corndogs very late the other night when some old strung out bastard asked me if I was a carpenter. This was odd, because I was actually wearing a suit and tie, which I believe is the International Carpenter’s Association uniform of choice. (Incidentally, I was only dressed that way because I had to go to a friend’s engagement party. Usually, a smelly T-shirt is my uniform of choice - pheromones, ya know) So being bored, I thought I’d go check out the ware’s of this fine old, junkie. Of course, he had to run down the street and pick it up, so my mind drifted back to dreams of late-night corndogs. He returned and I stepped outside see this shit. He had, indeed stolen a radial arm saw, a rip saw and a small sander from some contractor who undoubtedly still thinks he’s in Burrito, Texas or somewhere with no crime at all. The stuff wasn’t very nice to begin with, though there was still sawdust on them from the day’s work. Well, jughead only wanted $15 dollars for the set - not bad. The thing was, I didn’t really need the shit. Besides, the radial arm saw didn’t move to and fro, it only moved up and down and turned at angles. I tried to explain this, but the gentleman didn’t have a clue what the tools even were, let alone anything I was saying. By the time I finally passed on the deal completely and walked away, I had him down to $8. I don’t know what eventually happened to Crackrock Andy and the power tools he’d absconded with, but I like to think that in the wee hours of morning, fear of getting caught with the stuff lead him to throw it into some bushes or in a nearby trash can. See that way, everyone looses, and anymore, that just seems fine with me.
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I’m with you, brother.
Lots of times we wander up the street to the bar and, nearly every night, there’s some out-of-town yahoo fried out of his gourd on some various combination of prescriptions (not his), rotgut whiskey and about 7 kilos of Whatever Illegal He Can Find. The one I ran into last night was actually planning to drive back to Pearl River for some social engagement (which I assumed involved more of the same). Glad I wasn’t planning to actually go anyplace myself.
What’s screwing me up is going to major intersections where there’s been a stop sign for four months, but now there’s a working light. Huh? Don’t fuck with my flow, man. I OWN this freaking intersection. Don’t give me your damn rules, dude.
It’s endemic, I’m afraid.
I was on the way back from BBQLand today and one cop (a Criminal Sheriff guy) stops me and informs me my trailer’s tailight is out. He’ll let me go “this time.” I’m stopped again by the NOPD about two miles later, lights and all. The cop asks me, “so what you cookin’ on the trailer, man?”
Maybe, as long as I’m cooking, I can qualify in the “attractive young women” category for a while longer.
I’m tired, but not nearly as tired as y’all, I’m sure. I’m tired of being in graduate school, having kids, my husband working 14 freakin’ hours a day, 7 days a week fixin’ other people’s *#@!-ups, again (salaried, so no overtime). I’m tired of being fat and out-of-shape (although, I am working on that) and I’m REALLY tired of the dumb-asses on I-40 driving like they either a)own the road, b)believe it is more important to discuss plans to hook-up with Biff on their cell phones than pay attention to the traffic, c)blatantly break traffic laws and then flip ME off because I won’t, (well, not with the kids in the car) and/or d)drive a big-ass SUV gas-guzzler that they can’t drive competently or see out the the back glass. Usually, it’s a combination of all of the above. And blond, real and otherwise, and female makes it extra super-duper special.
But, given that my suburban charmer is generally in good-shape, all my family and friends are well, I’m almost done with my 3rd degree, my kids are brilliant, healthy and beautiful, and my husband is a “good provider” without being a cheat, a schmuck or a philanderer, I should shut the hell up. :-)
I wish I could take some of the load for y’all, but I’m about 500 miles away, so . . . but I’m sending karmic thoughts your way!
I am to the point now where I alternate between the two extremes right now. Sometimes I am soooo tired of having to wait three hours to eat at a restraunt that used to take five minutes to get a seat, tops. I get so apathetic I don’t care that I have been cut off for the thirtieth time on my drive in this morning (and that is only after driving on Veterans for two blocks!). I don’t care that my ‘overnight package’ from FedEx shows up the Tuesday after the Friday it was supposed to arrive. I don’t care about that bastard driving the Ford F350 extended cab/dualie with the Texas plates who just flat out ran a red light at 40+ miles an hour, missing my car by about 2 millimeters. But then, suddenly, for no reason I can explain my brain explodes with anger as I hear some schmuck at the next table go on and on about how ‘this would never happen in Texas’. Or how I go from chill to boil when a person goes straight through a four way stop without so much as touching the brakes. I admit that when the offender gets indignant at ME after HE makes the bonehead move, it seems to bring on the anger much easier. And BOY have I fantasized about going postal on some of the out-of-towners with their Shaw or other contractor signs driving around like the own the *)*&#)*# place. I mean hell, they are already leeching off of us while we are down and making enough money to rebuild the city three times over. Now I gotta put up with them driving like they are emergency personell with the lights flashing? I don’t think so, Tim. I’d love to beat some common courtesy into some of them. Of course, I know that it won’t solve anything and will only make things worse in terms of New Orleans’ reputation. So, I eventually go back to the apathetic place where I just numbly go from patient to patient, home to hospital. I just wait. And wait. And still hope. It will get better.
Civility, along with law and order, seems to be on a permanent vacation. Except in the French Quarter, where last Thursday night the police seemed to outnumber the civilians. I mean, seriously, there were at least 8-12 uniformed officers at each intersection from Canal to the 500 block.
Meanwhile, illegally parked cars choke the sidewalks of the Quarter and looters are working the darkened neighborhoods. Just great.
The number of police in the Quarter doesn’t surprise me much. I’ve always felt their presence in the Quarter was stronger. I guess this is to protect the tourist dollar. It’s interesting when you think about it since the Quarter used to be a fort surrounded by wilderness. Seems to me it still is.
If people don’t want to play by the rules in New Orleans
The rules in New Orleans! Hahaha, you crack me up, Jack! Just kidding … I’m actually afraid to take my little Honda back to NO after all the traffic crap my friend and I had to put up with downtown and in the Quarter a couple of weekends ago. And she was driving her Jeep!
Have you noticed the new gang of 20-somethings driving around in the Quarter and up and down Esplanade in their old, military surplus Humvees? Those things should be banned in the Quarter along with tourbuses trying to make it around Jackson Square.
Pre-Katrina, I was pulled over twice, once for doing nothing illegal (the cop didn’t know the traffic rules, ha!) and once for turning left at a No Left Turn. All I had to do was look at the officer with an “I’m so sorry” look and he let me go. Yaywhee! Wonder how long before my girly luck runs out.
Maitri, My understanding is that your girly luck runs out around the time you turn 40. Enjoy it while you can.
Good post man- but next time, beat the crack head in the head- it could have been my house he was stealing from.