To say 2025 so far in our city has been….different…is an understatement of monumental proportions. The events in New Orleans of the first month and a bit of this year have tested resolve. No one was prepared for New Year’s Day, we knew we weren’t prepared for the bayou blizzard and now some of us work with an amphetamine-induced-like fervor to be prepared for Super Bowl. Then of course, there’s the block party to end all block parties, Mardi Gras. Some of this is devastating, some of it enchanting, some of it frustratingly energizing. Now feels like one of the more difficult and confusing periods there has been in the 13 years I’ve been living in America. This is why I drink out of a disco ball.
I first came to New Orleans over 20 years ago and its vice-like grip on me was almost instantaneous. It was July, so as hot as the devil’s back passage and I couldn’t have cared less. The mystique I’d seen watching too much TV as a kid was even more vivid and magnetic than in my dreams. Once you spend real time here and take time to know it, its aesthetic and wonder goes deeper than even those with a Tim Burton-type perspective could conjure up. There are countless stories here. Some are hiding in the shadows, some are hiding in plain sight, but the depth and richness of all of them is there for the relishing. The fabulously shady history is palpable in every chasm-like crack in the sidewalk. Like giants walked there before you. The precarious sanctity of this sacred space has been shattered. To say our collective hearts were devastated on New Year’s Day doesn’t even begin to describe the eeriness of that day. Despite all the welcome intrusions we get from large crowd gatherings, this is a tight community. How can you miss New Orleans even when you’re right here? You miss what you didn’t realize was her debaucherous innocence. You miss the delusion that you’re safe here from this kind of hate. And you’re left in a daze of the brutality and sadness of it all.
Then just when you think things can’t get any stranger, even for the poster child of eccentricities, we get 9-10” of snow in a day. Not in 130 years has this city seen anything close to this. The novelty factor was high for some of us who not only live here but are from here. For those who live here but have lived above the Mason-Dixon line, the laughter was a mix of hysterical and hysterical boredom. For those of us who dug it, pun intended, seeing the progression and result of 12 straight hours of snow was breathtaking. The unfortunate side of the powder coated coin was the disruption for those working in the hospitality and gig economies. With bars, restaurants and music venues closed for days, unable to be staffed as roads were iced and unusable, those who can often afford it the least, lost income. The good news for these souls is it’s highly unlikely we’ll ever see that level of snow again in our lifetime. For those of us who reveled in the experience, the memories will light the subconscious forever.
As much grief, anxiety and fear as there was after New Year’s Day, there’s now a big show to put on and the anticipation is reaching fever pitch. The streets of my historic and architecturally stunning neighborhood have been awash with fluorescent vests, orange traffic cones and flashing lights. High rise buildings are being cloaked in all manner of stories-high decals pushing beer, mobile phone service and sportsbooks to the half cut masses. We have dusted off and braced our bruised and battered selves for the onslaught of Super Bowl, one of the bigger spectacles there is. Most emphatically in terms of advertising revenue! The buzz that can come with crowds and events this size is infectious and energizing even for those who have seen it innumerable times before. This may be a little more tense this time for some as pain is still raw. But bring on your obnoxious fans, your talking head commentators, your mega yachts and enough security so it looks like we’re under martial law. We’re professionals at dealing with all that. No disrespect intended to either team playing in this behemoth of an event, but New Orleans will be the winner in the end.
This beautiful dichotomy that is New Orleans seems to always be battling something. The threat of weather seems never-endingly imminent. The banana republic-like irresponsibility and mismanagement of civic leadership, constant and generational. And yet she continues to not only survive but defy. You can count on the power of this place, and while it’s bigger than all of us, it also IS all of us. Its energy and very pulse comes from those that dig in and fight to protect its extraordinary culture and way of life. Those that always have and always will be here and refuse to let its magic be disregarded, disrespected or worse, fade away. New Orleans is made up of immersive experiences and those experiences are the stuff inspiration is made of.
The Last Bohemian City 