Katrina and her deadly, deadly waves
Dear Evacuation Monkeys:
This one is different. You officially have my permission to freak out.
Last time, as you’ll recall, we were faced with Dennis, a Category 2 who decided early on that he was gonna hit somewhere between Mobile and Pensacola, and he didn’t change his mind, not once. But Katrina (to my knowledge, the first hurricane named for my fave checkout girl at the St. Claude Robert’s) is way more shady and way more powerful. A couple of days ago, she was all like, “I just can’t get enough of that Pensacola stuff!” And then she was all, “No, baby, Panama City: that’s where all the fine men are, and where there’s fine men, Katrina will follow!” Now, apparently, she’s looking for a daiquiri and some red beans, ’cause she’s set to arrive on Bourbon Street bright and early Monday morning decked out in her Category Four finery.
So, let the evacuation freak out begin. One small suggestion, though, to my fellow New Orleanians: rather than filling up your gas tanks and fleeing for the safety of Mississippi or Texas (yes, having “safety” and “Mississippi” in the same sentence looks weird to me, too), might I suggest evacuating up? It’s slow season for hotels right now, and many of the ones downtown have rooms available at reasonable rates. Best of all, the Quarter and the Central Business District are on fairly high ground, and buildings there are far less prone to lose power because their Entergy cables run underground. And lots of ’em take pets, which is a big bonus in my book.
But wherever you go–whether it’s the Windsor Court or Vickburg or, goddess forbid, Houston–feel free to carry along a modicum of New Orleans-style hysteria. Flash those Manson lamps at the Walgreen’s when you’re buying D batteries. Have a hissy at the Chevron station while you’re filling up. Slap your children in the Home Depot parking lot. Just keep yourself below the Margaret Orr level, will ya? And for goddess’ sake, don’t start fistfights with the elderly over the last loaf of Bunny Bread. It’s unfair, it’s unseemly, and that shit’s full of carbs anyway.
See you on the other side,
Rico
sturtle [dot] com 