An Unexpected Journey.

New Orleans vacation.

It’s a tradition. We do it every year.

Every year, we typically see and experience something new. This is what keeps us coming back to New Orleans. Between all the history, the lore, and the stories of New Orleans – there’s always something new to discover.

This year in New Orleans, it was shaping up to be no different. We had gone to our usual places : Lafitte’s Blacksmith Shop (Do Not Be Fooled By The Name – It’s a bar, where they have no lights inside – only candles! Said to be one of the oldest bars in the United States), May Baily’s Place (Yet Another Bar, see a theme here?), Abita Springs where we did the traditional tour of Abita Beer (where Poppy’s contacts got us First Class Treatment!), Original Pierre Masperos (where they have the BEST Roast Beef Po-Boys – ever! And trust me, I keep looking for places that even come close in comparison!), NOLA (for desert), St. Louis Cathedral (which is an amazing sight to behold!), Eat (which has some amazing food ALWAYS!) and of course, Tony Seville’s Pirate’s Alley Cafe. (Which is where the photo of the Absinthe was taken). Several of these places we revisited SEVERAL times; and none of them were first time visits for us; since we come here every year and hit our traditional favorite places.

But as I said, we always find new things in New Orleans. Usually by accident.

We discovered a cool little nitch area that had antiques, as well as a small, cool cupcake place called Cupcake Concept, also went to Frenchman and to the Apple Barrel Bar to meet Jules & Patrick (and Patrick’s parents who were so very incredibly awesome!), checked out Fluerty Girl in the French Quarter, La Divina with Jules & Patrick (and his parents), Surrey’s on Magazine St (for some very good, wholesome food), Port of Call for more drinks and their burgers (which were good, but not the proclaimed “Best Ever!” that someone Mike knew claimed them to be!), as well as the Garden District & Cemetery Tour (although by the time we got out of the cemetery, the humidity was killing several of us – myself included, and I ended up at Still Perkin’ Coffee House; not because I wanted coffee, but I needed water and soda, and it was air conditioned!

Despite all these amazing places…

The most incredible thing happened at the very end.

I mean, at the very end.

In the taxi.

You see, I love engaging Taxi Drivers in conversation, especially in New Orleans. You can get some pretty outrageous stories from the cab drivers, as well as some good information about where to go (or in some places, where not to go). For example, one cab driver told us about how when he would pick people up and they’d pass out in his taxi; he’d just take them and drop them all off on the same corner, so that they could all be passed out together – complete strangers, with that single thing in common.

But the most amazing thing was the last taxi driver. The one that was taking us to the airport to go home.

It was standard conversation at first. He asked us what we had done. He mentioned that there had been a Vampire Convention in town (that we somehow didn’t hear about, imagine that?) – the only one I could find was not until October – for the Endless Night, he also mentioned the Swingers Convention (which we WERE aware of; not that we had anything to do with it; it’s just several of them were at May Baily’s Bar, which is connected to our hotel). As we drove along the freeway, he asked if we had termites where we were from – I had said, yes but not many in San Diego. He then pointed out a 17 story building that had been ripped asunder and said, “Louisiana Termites did that!” He was actually referencing (and joking!) about the Claiborne Towers being prepped for demolition by explosion.

As the conversation carried on, I discovered that he had come to San Diego in the 1960’s as a part of the Military and did Boot Camp in San Diego. He and his wife, however, would eventually both become teachers, and eventually retire and return home to New Orleans. He then told me that they’ve lived here for 35 (or 39?) years (almost to the day!). So naturally I asked, “Were you vastly affected by Hurricane Katrina?”

I had asked the question.

I was not ready for the answer.

Or the story that followed.

He went on to tell me how when in 1965, when Hurricane Betsy had struck – they had been in the area, and water poured down – but didn’t even get up to their front door (because it the house was located on a slight hill). He then told me, that when he bought a home in the same area, the relator had handed him a hatchet as a part of the deal. Curious I had asked, “What’s the hatchet for?”

He said, “Well, let me tell you. She had handed it to me when I bought the house; and she said, ‘Wrap it in cloth and oil, so it never rusts. Keep it in your attic.” I still had no clue what the hatchet was for. But I’d soon discover, as he continued his tale.

He said, he and his family (wife and one of his daughters) had remained when Hurricane Katrina came. Because, as he previously mentioned, when Hurricane Betty came – and it poured tons of water – the water level never reached their house. (You have to understand almost all of New Orleans, and probably Louisiana for that matter is said to be about 2 feet above Sea Level). So when Hurricane Katrina came – they thought they’d sit it out and be in no danger.

However, before they could even do anything – they realized their mistake. It took almost no time for the water to reach their front door. Then proceed to flood the first floor, into the second; forcing them, to grab very few rations (a few Granola bars and some water), where they were suddenly pinned in the attic. Now the hatchet would come into play. You see, there had been hurricanes and floods before, where people fled to their attics – but once the water flooded the attic, there was nowhere to go. So people literally drowned, trapped in their own homes. So the hatchet was to cut open the roof and rip a hole, if needed to escape.

He went on to tell us how, for 9 days, the US Military did not respond to help in the disaster. He had said for three days, when they were wet, cold, and out of food, they could hear boats and helicopters flying over head. Finally on the third day, a boat had come close enough to the house, that they were rescued by someone else from New Orleans. There were no cell phone towers. No telephone lines. No radio. No television. They had no idea what was going on in the outside world. The man who rescued them refused to take what little money they had as a reward; and refused to give his name, simply stating, “I’m just someone who has a boat and wants to help.”

The man who had rescued them explained that he was able to siphon gas out of cars that had not been submerged by the flooding, which allowed him to continue to use his boat and look for survivors. They had picked up some other neighbors who survived by doing the same thing. And rather than going to where everyone else was being dropped off, they wanted to return to his son’s home, in a different Parish. The rescuer had explained that if officers saw them, they would get arrested. It was a chance, our taxi driver, was willing to take. So together, they went to their son’s home, passing officers, who did not stop them or question them (because they were going away from the flooding, rather than towards it). There, they were welcomed by their son and family.

Their son had gathered everyone around, to their fire pit in the backyard to cook all perishable foods (steak, eggs, etc), so that the food could be saved and used. Canned foods were used last. They lived like this for quite a long time, because there were no grocery stores opening; they’d been too damaged, people, employees, etc were missing or dead.

He said something that really touched me, and made me put on my sunglasses to hide my tears, that were by this time, free flowing. He said, “I live by the motto – if you never give up, you never lose.”

By the time we had reached the airport, I felt like an emotional wreck. This man, in this cab ride, had changed me. He impacted me. He slammed his fist directly into my heart and shattered it, with his amazing tale.

It’s one thing to see it – or even hear audio – like we did a few years back at the Living With Hurricanes: Katrina And Beyond museum (which, all in itself, was an amazing experience). But this was real. I was sitting behind the man that told me his story of survival.

I don’t think I will ever experience anything in New Orleans that will compare.

Do yourself a favor. Talk to the cab drivers in New Orleans.

What you hear…

What you learn…

May change you forever.