The Fly, The Levy, and all of the Smellies

As I began to settle into my new environment, I found myself starting to relax a little bit.  There is nothing quite like moving to a new place where no one knows who you are.  There are no expectations, no one telling you what they think you should do, and no one honestly gives a crap anyway.  Especially not in New Orleans

I’m talking about men walking down the street wearing a red dress and high heels, women not shaving their legs, and the rich Jews rubbing elbows with them all on Mardi Gras Day.  There’s this thing called a second line where people march down the street with a brass band, and then EVERYONE comes out to dance.  Leave your cares behind, and come out to the swamp.  In New Orleans, they celebrate life every day.

                 It was kind of hard at first for me to get into the mentality.  I'll be honest, coming from a conservative part of the country, everything seemed a little bit off color. The everyday vernacular of the locals even confused me a bit.  Rather than saying “I’m going to the grocery store”, they say, “I’m going to make groceries”.   A coke is a “cold drank”, and it’s not “oil”, it is “earl”.

                I was mesmerized by it all, and it felt amazing.  I felt like I was in the land of the free. 

                That is, until I discovered I was only making about $200 bucks a week at the new restaurant.  Saving up for the new place wasn’t going to go as quickly as I anticipated.  Of course as a dumb 20 year old, I didn’t see the urgency of the situation.  Since I was only working during the day, I had my afternoons to go out and experience the city.  I wasn’t 21 yet, so going to bars, which is the main form of entertainment in NOLA, was out of the question.   It was during this time that Will introduced me to “The Fly” and the levy.  

                So, Will had this group of guys that he had been friends with for a long time and we would all go chill in the evening time at “The Fly”(a river view park behind the Audubon Zoo).  Of course, I was ALWAYS the only chick.  I’ve always had the ability to rub elbows with the fellows and be accepted.  They would all bring their “40’s” and watch the sunset.  At the time, beer disgusted me.  I couldn’t even attempt to keep up with their drinking habits.  Nevertheless, it was on the banks of the Mississippi with a group of smelly boys that I witnessed some of the most beautiful sunsets that I have ever seen in my life. Exhibit A:

The thing I loved most about my time in New Orleans was there was always time to appreciate beauty.  Time goes by just a little bit slower there.

If we couldn’t stake claim to our last gazebo at The Fly, then we would always go down to the tower at the levy.  Same premise, just a little more hands on.  You could go back into the woods and hike down trails that the homeless river dwellers cleared.   

The boys would build fires and throw rocks at beer bottles to see who could make them break.  One time, one of the fellows even built a homemade potato gun and fired off potatoes at the stagnant barges.  The boom of the exploding potato against the rusted steel pierced the air like a firecracker.

As the weeks flew by and I settled into the new job, I began to become more acquainted with my new coworkers too.  A few girls from Pennsylvania, a rambunctious blonde from Chicago, and a VERY hip California girl were some of my first friends.  I had never even touched a bottle of wine in my entire life until I started working at the restaurant.  When the owner asked me if I as comfortable opening wine, I had to say no.  It was the awesome blonde from Chicago that took the time and showed me step by step how to do it.  If it weren’t for her, I would have been clueless.  For some reason, my boss wasn’t very fond of me because of the conversations I would have with one of the Pennsylvania girls. The fact that I couldn’t open wine didn’t exactly work to my advantage either. Pennsylvania was fascinating though.  She was the type of girl who could talk to strangers all day, and BOY did we have a lot to talk about!

These people were cool, they were real.  They weren’t from Texas or Louisiana, they weren’t conservative bible belt Christians.  They were different.  They liked to drink red wine and talk about REAL issues.  They weren’t concerned about small town gossip.  A few of them were even, dare I say, Liberals.

I was totally diggin’ this new life.