EMPTY AMERICA: New Orleans

On my way down south from Arkansas to New Orleans, I saw a glimmer of hope in a form I didn’t think I would see...


From the right lane of the 4 lane highway, there was something dark up ahead. I decided to straddle it as I couldn’t merge left to avoid it. I aimed my car wheels to hit on either side of this object.


As I got closer, I saw a tiny head poking out from under a shell and said out loud: “A turtle!” Luckily I chose to straddle it as it remained unharmed under my carriage (though that had to be a damn scary moment, I’d imagine)


Yes, a turtle was making it’s way towards the shoulder finishing it’s crossing of the freeway.


I got hope because I looked behind me and saw there were no cars for at least 1/2 a mile. This slow-moving reptile was going to make it to the grass!


My fear turned into happiness. I don’t know why I was so elated. Maybe because after hearing all about humanity’s demise from Covid-19 and seeing how it had shut down everything so far, this little fella was ambling along at his own pace and would soon have freedom and safety.


Maybe there’s a lesson there: Take it nice and slow and it will all work out in the end. Maybe I’m reading too much into it. Though, to be fair, this was my 4th day on the road, so allow me some philosophy.


Before I hit New Orleans, I stopped for lunch with an old friend in Lafayette, LA. He owns his own restaurant (now shut down) and is marketing manager for a chain which include Poke Geaux. It was great to see him again, have a fresh bowl of Cajun Poke (who knew that could be a thing?) and I got to witness first-hand how much the social distancing edict had set in: We sat at opposite tables for lunch. We weren’t supposed to dine in as they were only doing carry-out, but we dined in anyway and got to experience how far apart face-to-face interactions were to be from here on out.


From Lafayette I made my way to my main goal: Bourbon Street. If Las Vegas was shut down, certainly Bourbon Street would be quiet as well. How quiet would soon unnerve me...


My friend recommended a roundabout way to get to New Orleans as there was usually traffic on the main bridge and it could easily back up.


Since I was in no rush and eager to see how the virus had affected America, I chose to take the “busy” route. If it was backed up, then Louisiana, soon to be declared one of the virus hotspots in the US, was business as usual. If it was empty, it would be very telling about how the virus was changing traffic patterns.


It was smooth, effortless sailing into the Crescent City.


I found parking just off of Bourbon Street quite easily and was aghast at what I’d saw.


I’ve been to Bourbon a few times and it’s never less than pure drunken joy. There’s always music, there’s always reveling and there’s always amazing food.


To see the doors locked, homemade signs pasted in windows and doors and to see the balconies empty and windows shuttered not only blew me away, but knocked me down.


3 cities on this trip will be remembered for how catastrophic and debilitating this virus has been to the spirit of a city.


This once-buzzy French Quarter of New Orleans felt sad. Lonely. Like a funeral, truly. My heart sank as I walked up and down unimpeded. If there weren’t shut-off signs announcing a bar or dance club, I would’ve thought I was in an abandoned parish. Years abandoned. It hurt to see, like the city had just died and this was it’s wake. View the body, say a few words, then move on.


This was also the first time I felt unsafe. New Orleans can be quite the fun city, but is also pretty famous as having an edge to it. It attracts derelicts, hustlers and panhandlers from all over which, if I’m honest, usually adds to the charm of the place and enlightens it’s pirate past, sinful present and adds the right amount of humanity to the usual up-tempo shenanigans.


Today, it was foreboding. As the sun was going down and the only voices I heard and souls I saw were those of the down and out, I thought we are living in a time where desperation, especially after dark, may start to take hold. What right did I have to be there? And what’s to stop me from getting shook down with no police presence? I felt unsafe, unsure, and definitely didn’t want to be caught there after dark.


In fallow times, who can blame the desperate?


I walked briskly back to my car and felt many things: guilt, sadness, maybe a bit of desperation myself. Desperate to go back and see my safe little highway turtle to give myself a bit of a smile. He may have made good on his adventure home, but in the end, the dead of Bourbon Street hung over me as I headed towards Savannah, GA...