The fucking Road, my friend (This one is a bit long)

So, I have discovered why it is that people should go on trips; no matter how much you hear, read, watch, or think about a certain place, you will never discover how it is to actually be there. New Orleans is such a place. You would think that a place as famous as the big easy would be pretty much exactly like you imagine it: drunken, spicy, and humid as hell. On a trip of 1700 miles in the Explorer, we found out just how wildly unique that fucking place is, as well as discovering just how different Atlanta is as well. In terms of planning, this was not a well execuited trip; I forgot soap AND toothpaste, as well as any manner of raingear. The Wednesday of departure, I still had no sub for friday work, a fact that the managerial staff was not pleased with, but that would not derail the voyage. Neither would the curious automotive difficulties that blue decided she would pull on us before leaving, consisting of some sort of idling difficulty which forced me to keep my foot on the gas or the engine would stall (which makes for interesting stop-n-go traffic situations). Despite these difficulties, the voyage begain, out the door at 85 on the way to Atlanta and the campus of Georgia Tech, to hang out with engineers. Actually, it was a very cool friend of Mr. Findlay's who allowed us to sleep on his floor, drink with some weirdass people (those engineers can be pretty socially inept), and gave us a campus map with no streetnames, to aid in our exploration. Turns out, GT has our rec center beat, hands down. But before I forget a vital detail, let me just say that the trip owes a large debt to Taco Bell, 2 times in all. Also to krystal (love those little burgers), Mcdonalds, and Moe's burritos, all of which played a vital role. It becomes quickly apparent to a driver that the trip from Chapel Hill to Atlanta is much more entertaining that the trip from Atlanta to New Orleans. Sadly, Alabama and Mississippi do not hold much in the way of interstate entertainment; the highlight was passing the Boy Scouts of America headquarters and hearing chris say "Look how many boys are over there!" Mississippi doesn't even have bathrooms in its reststops; evidently they want you go hurry up and get the fuck through. Well fuck them, we aren't all visiting Mississippi, now are we? Hell no, we want to get to New Orleans, where the beads hang in the trees (for real, they are actually still in the trees), and the streets sink into the swamp (again, for real, the damn things have more potholes than a dirt road). Literally, the first thing that struck us as we drove into town, besides the lack of a major skyline (its no Atlanta), was the hellatious roads. The second was just how close together the houses are, with the streets, and the trees, and the general chaos that was driving down the streets with parallel parking. It was obvious that this city took a different approach; at one point, we saw a pothole large enough to place an orange construction barrel in (we knew it was this large because there actually was an orange barrel in it, in the middle of the street). I don't want to give you the impression I disliked the city, in fact, I loved it. But you simply can't imagine the attitude of the city; Stuart pointed out that many of the old building exist not because people have intentionally preserved them (though some have), but because no one ever got around to tearing them down and building new ones. We went to the resturants where gumbo came with bigass chunks of crab(shell and all), where they called spaghetti sauce was called "red gravy" (New Orleans has a large Italian population, who knew?). Stuart's house was in what I felt was a good neighborhood, but not 10 yards from his house stood a large and very cool looking graveyard, not a usual thing for a city neighborhood. You would pass houses worth millions, only to see the next one boarded up and empty. Then you roll to bourbon street, to drink anything you want on the street (we went with hand grenades and a bottle of southern comfort that we bought from the GROCERY STORE!!!), and only one street over from your drunken madness stands the Louisiana District Court building, which you can walk by with your huge beers. I can't do the French Quarter justice by describing it, you just have to look at the pictures, or better yet, visit for yourself. But try and get away from the tourist shit if you go, there is definately more to the town than one big drunken street (there are lots of kickass bars and resturants that don't live on bourbon street). There are also massive old houses, catholic schools that look like palaces, public schools that look like hell, Snowballs (a badass form of snocone), bars in old houses, bars with patios that put any chapel hill bar to shame, food you can't pronouce or understand, but will enjoy, and a hell of alot more. On the first night we were there, we went to a bar known as Ms. May's; teach for america's New Orleans group had chosen this bar as their congretation spot. It looks like the Public schools will be receiving about 80% hot white college girls as salvation. The trip home consisted of a longass drive in the pouring rain that darlin Arlene dropped on us, but another night in Atlanta and some more drinking with engineers made it all ok. I realize this post has been long as hell, and not really provided many quality details, but it's all too big to ever write here
(ask and i'll tell you all you'll ever want to hear). Basically, go to New Orleans, and if you live somewhere else that isn't CH, invite me to visit you, because I will damn sure come. As I woke up on our final day there, my mother called me a big worried; evidently, 2 seperate multiple fatality murders had occured, and a Tropical storm was on the way. That's New Orleans for you.