Jazzfest and the ghost of Mark Essex

A dock broken from Katrina on Lake Ponchatrain

Thursday evening we flew into New Orleans, my third time visiting in the past nine months. Friday's workday began off Lake Ponchatrain, which was a $25 cab ride from Burbon Street and led through parts of the city still untouched since Hurricane Katrina. Houses still bore faded orange spray painted symbols of #'s dead, # of survivors, and other information for rescue teams. The watermarks on trees and houses in this area came up to about 6-feet high, and dropped as we continued toward the lake. The damage there was less from the levies but from the actual storm, its wind knocking down structures and tearing down light poles. The picture above is a dock that I crossed from a 2"x12" board. The folks fishing in the background were nice, quiet folks who hadn't caught anything since morning.

My room was poolside! The view from my sliding glass doors

The eerie hallway of 330 Loyola's 18th floor

After work I took another cab to my new lodgings for the weekend! The cab driver, a nice local named Bill, remarked as we pulled in to the Holiday Inn Superdome: "Hey, this used to be the Howard Johnson back in the seventies. Did you hear about the Second Battle of New Orleans?" He described in detail how a Black Panther came to this hotel guns ablazin' and didn't stop until a police helicopter riddled his body with more than 200 rounds. Sure enough, wikipedia confirmed Bill's story, including information on where the shootings took place. The first shots were fired outside room 1839, which is now a Concierge Lounge. I made the picture above in black-and-white so it would seem more dramatic (you can see the ghost of Mark Essex peeking out of the housekeeping closet if you look really closely).

My entire Friday night

Friday night I kicked back and enjoyed my new diggs, listened to some good music and got a whole lot of relaxing in, taking advantage of my own private paradise at my room and the pool. I realized that pools are the ultimate in leisure, as just sitting next to them drinking a beer is all one needs to make it a vacation and lime it up!

Gearin' up for Jazzfest! It was around 11am and I had only drank one bottle of wine!

So fine. I was geared up for my Saturday afternoon touring a big chunk of New Orleans history of celebration at Jazzfest so I drank a whole bottle of Pinot Grigio. I didn't intend on drinking that much, but my glass kept refilling itself as the morning hours wore away.

The Porta-Party at Jazzfest

Unfortunately Jazzfest turned out to be a great disappointment. Maybe it was the rain. Maybe it was the $50 ticket, which excluded entry for those poor and suffering enough to make some really moving music. The beignets were amazing, but the pork chop sandwiches sucked! Everyone was white and retired, white and teenage, or black and picking up trash (among the few black musicians). I left after about three hours and went home for a much needed nap.

That night I went to the French Quarters, where local friends Kristin and Rhiannan showed me around town. The highlight of the night was a show at a club called d.b.a. where local group The Happy Talk Band took to the stage drunk and howling. Their songs reminded me of David Lowry (from Cracker) with subtexts all about Katrina and being poor and in love in New Orleans. Of which I was neither...but could still somehow relate.