We drove around in his old neighborhood and he pointed out one of the houses he had lived in. It looked a lot nicer than a place that was robbed 5 times in 1991.
We had lunch at One Restaurant because a local had told us it was his favorite place for fine dining in all of NOLA. We had a gnocchi appetizer and a BLT and smothered chicken with gravy for our entrees. The food was very good and the service was top notch, but the atmosphere was a bit stuffy for us.
The restaurant was near the Mississippi River, so we walked atop the levee a short distance to give me a feel for the mightiness.
From this elevation, I could really see how breaks in the levees or even just a lot of rain could cause massive flooding. We would get a closer look at flood destruction that afternoon as we drove through areas that had been severely damaged by the flooding as a result of levee failure after Hurricane Katrina.
Our Katrina tour started by driving the neighborhoods of West End and Lakeview, trying not to gawk rudely in disbelief. There were so many homes that were either boarded up, abandoned, or just plain missing, it was shocking. The Storm was six years ago, yet many homes were only now being gutted, raised onto pilings, or in some other state of repair. Still others had been started, but the repairs had obviously stopped.
To match our sober tour, the hot sunny weather had abruptly turned very windy, cool, and generally poor for a lakeside stroll, so we stopped only briefly on the shores of Lake Pontchartrain to experience one 1000th of what this town might have felt with Katrina bearing down on it. I've never been in the path of a hurricane, but the wind was blowing that day like it wanted to send lake water right up to the top of the levee again.
We continued our tour of flooded areas through Milneburg and finally to the Lower Ninth Ward. Depending on the area, entire blocks of these neighborhoods were now just empty lots with sad concrete steps that used to lead to the front door but now lead to nowhere.
This 1 minute 20 second video gives you a better sense of the destruction and the number of ruined homes.
After all that bad scene, we needed a strong drink. Down to Bourbon Street
for New Orleans' famous drink, the Hand Grenade.
It was a sickly sweet version of a fruity daiquiri served with a plastic hand grenade floating in a plastic cup that of course I wanted to take home. Drew said it took him 10 years to get rid of all the plastic cups he had accumulated from his time in NOLA. I bet I can hoard these for 15.
We retired to our cozy hotel on this blustery night, only to be zapped back into the party scene by a text message from Drew's old roommate, John, and his wife Marie at 10:30 PM. They were down at Cooter Browns and wanted us to come out and have a drink. Out came that party animal college boy (actually, since Drew was 36 and well out of college when I met him, I don't really know what party-animal Drew was like, but I have heard stories) and down we went to a college bar to close out Day 4 of our NOLA vacation.