Politics New Orleans-style is a nasty business, as you might imagine. I had that notion driven home to me last week. When the telephone rang, I picked it up, only to immediately be assaulted by a recorded female voice telling me not to vote for Mr. Nagin because he was a pawn of the Morial "machine." The female voice on the recording hit me with a stream of vitriolic accusations against Nagin and then the telephone call ended. No ascription, no endorsement of a particular candidate. Just two-three minutes of sound-bited venom. I've been around politics a long time now, as regular readers know. But this was the first time in my life I've ever gotten a telephone call like that one anywhere. The next day, Matt got the same type of hit-call about mayoral candidate Paulette Irons. Again, no ascription, no endorsement.

When you bring up politics to most people in this town, they cynically rejoin that nothing ever gets fixed but New Orleanians still get the best politicians that money can buy. Ha-ha!

Holding an election on Super Bowl weekend -- something that couldn't have been anticipated when the date was originally set -- may have had a dampening effect on voter turn-out. But in a race with this crowded a field, a number of the candidates got more exposure than in races in other metros I've known. There was a definite small-town feel to the whole affair, with even the minor candidates getting a chance at many of the forums. That's the best thing I can say about an otherwise tawdry race where the word "Liar" was in no small evidence.

None of the rhetoric, accusations, or mud-slinging managed to fill a single pot-hole in a city as plagued by them as any I've ever seen. The schools didn't get better in this quintessentially illiterate town and the crime rate didn't drop one bit. The job market is still abysmal outside of the "hospitality" sector where most people work for minimum wage or less. Wait staff, bartenders, etc. still make $2.85/hour plus tips now that this election is over. That's the New Orleans Way.

What happend at the Kerry during Super Bowl weekend for me?

It went like this:

Got out of my Day Job at 7, with only an hour remaining before I had to clock in at the Kerry, I decided to go over early and check the lay of the land. It was incredibly quiet compared to the raging madness that was Bourbon Street. Looked like it would be a chill gig -- at least at that moment -- as Decatur St. was still slow. Mostly strollers, a few people lowing over pints, but nothing like the street party I had just left at my first jobo. That was dood news. I ordered a Coke and waited for the long night to commence...

It was a long dead night. I made $15 for staying there until 12:30 p.m. The explanation for the gouge isn't worth the ink. Let's just say it was another exhibition of the New Orleans Way. I have this bad habit of expecting people to be as concerned about keeping their word(s) as I am. My bad.

And and the beers? I asked for one, to make the switch from the caffeine of Coca Cola to something mellower, bored as I was, and I got the message, "The bar says 'No. Not yet.'" Rule Two broken in keeping to the terms of a deal. But I felt duty bound to work the night, perhaps the weekend, out. That's me.

I decided to wait for Saturday... That turned out to be my best night of the weekend. I made $30.

Sunday went almost exactly like Friday and I made the same amount of money. I suggested that they might not need me during Mardi Gras weekend. I agreed to let them give me a call after they saw how it went on Friday. I'm disinclined toward ever going back there to work. Do the math. I made the equivalent of $2/hr. Losing My Religion Fat Tuesday looms and things are supposed to pick-up for the service workers in this town. This is The Season in New Orleans, I've been told since I moved here after leaving Belgrade in July. People are supposed to make all kinds of fat bank. At my Day Job today I overhead some of the Bourbon Street business crowd beginning to sing the blues. The tune went like this:

Super Bowl weekend was "okay," some people did "alright." But it was nothing to write home about. One guy said he'd checked with the hotel crowd and heard that nothing much was going on today or tomorrow. That, in part, because any person with half a brain wouldn't fly into this town until after the airport re-opened from the Super Bowl lock-down. (The only things in the air over New Orleans on Sunday were the fighter jets that scrambled when former-President Bush came out to do the coin-toss.)

The assembled were wondering if the Mardi Gras krewes would reschedule their parades tonight as we are in the midst of a rainy cold-snap right now -- after having a great and unseasonable week before the Super Bowl, the krewes who normally parade having cancelled therefore.

It's not just me, Kids.

New Orleans can't catch a break.

There are a number of major krewes scheduled to begin parading tonight and throughout Fat Tuesday. But if the weather doesn't break...

Losing My Religion

I'm not that into rampant debauchery, being older, either. My feelings about the upcoming festivities are mixed really. It won't be any fun leaving an office on Bourbon Street and trying to make my way home, for example.

I have very little incentive to stay up 'til dawn with a bunch of college-aged revelers. Though I'm interested in absorbing what this newest of my cities has to offer, I've never been a good tourist.

I'm still thinking of this as merely a stop on the longer hejira. It seems that I shall stay here longer than I've planned, paying old debts from the last jaunt and collecting acorns for the next.

Oddly, at least one confidante of mine here seems to believe that New Orleans is now changing me, accepting me and taking me to herself. This person says that I'm even being taken by and taking to New Orleans faster and easier than my roommate, Matt, who loves this place. (I told you I'd get back to that.)

Here's the impression: "Matt tries too hard to be part of New Orleans. He's not from here, but goes out of his way to act like he could be. That's not how it's done in New Orleans. You can't just take the place, the place has to take you.

"I've seen more people like you, Rod, who say they hate New Orleans, become part of this city than people who love it so much that they try to take the place.

"It ain't a place to be taken. It takes you, not the other way around. That's why I think that, of the two of you, you're the one New Orleans will take and make you like her...."

I was nonplussed by this assessment, since Matt insists that everyone he likes should just move down here. Me, I'm taking to New Orleans, but from arm's-length. Even more surprising is that this assessment came from someone that I had considered one of my roomie's friends and admirers. I thought the person was in league with Matt to make me like this town. It turns out that was not the case; they believe that the town has to like you first.

THINGS I LIKE THIS WEEK

Rod was a columnist for the Andover News Network, where he wrote over two hundred articles on web design and development issues. He was also principal writer and Editor for IT Manager's Journal, where he reviewed technology issues weekly, producing 383 editorials. He became the Managing Editor for Electronic Mail/Newsletter Publications at Andover.net at the end of February, 2000, and left in September of the same year. He was a contributing writer for ACCESS magazine, which appears both on- and offline for 10 million readers in 100 newspapers like the San Francisco Chronicle, New York Post, Boston Herald, Austin American-Statesman, Denver Post and Orlando Sentinel, among others. Rod was the US reporter for Silicon.com, a division of Network Multimedia Television in London, UK, reaching 3.5 million European readers, until May, 2001.

Rod lives in New Orleans, Louisiana, right now. The new home of the magazine. But he plans to return to Serbia next year.

He continues to be committed to integrity, chastity and a dose of humility.

| HOME | THE PREVIOUS GLASS HOUSE | THE NEXT GLASS HOUSE |

CREDITS || AWARDS || SEARCH ENGINES || LINKS ||
VOX POPULI is YOUR PAGE to talk back to us. I'm glad you're not bashful. Keep those cards and e-mails comin', Kids!

Our Editor