In the Beginning, there was a CR-V and an Idiot

                I’ll be completely honest, I moved to New Orleans to be with my boyfriend Will.  Also, I was sick of the same old same old of Southeast Texas.  I was 20 then, and I didn’t have a CLUE about ANYTHING.  I had spent my last semester using my student loan money to make sneak trips to New Orleans.  I’ll never forget the first time I went as an “adult” (meaning over the age of 18, I wasn’t an adult mentally).  I actually had the blessing of my parents to drive to NOLA in my 97’ CR-V to visit Will and his family for Christmas. 

                I was so nervous on that four hour drive.  I left home around 8 in the morning the day after Christmas, and set out to find my future.  Just me, the open road, and Rachel Yamagata (Megan, the emo years).   When I got to Baton Rouge, there was an idiot in a red truck who held up a sign against his driver's side window that read, “what’s your number?”  It was at that moment that I knew I wasn’t in Texas anymore, and I was dealing with a WHOLE new breed of redneck.

                That first trip to NOLA was intoxicating. Will spent the entire trip chauffeuring me around the city to show me the sights.  It was so different than the mundane SeTex country side I was so acclimated to viewing.  The elementary school he had attended years ago was in a building that was erected circa 1920 in the middle of a neighborhood lined with shotgun houses. I must admit, I thought on my French roots and immediately felt like I belonged.  I fell hopelessly in love with the scene.  THAT is the charm of the city, that is why so many people call it their refuge.  There is such a sense of unity and togetherness everywhere you go.  “How you doing?”  or “okay baaybay” are common things you would hear from any given person on a daily basis.  My first impression, though, was not of the people, but of the beauty of the city itself. New Orleans is like something out of a period piece.  It’s classic, and a lot of it is unchanged as the decades pass by.  The huge houses on St. Charles Ave and the charm of the French Quarter, still as it was a hundred years ago, are breath taking. I could go on and on.  If you’ve never been there, there isn’t really a whole lot that I could put into words that would accurately describe the magnificence.  As a previous architecture student (who thought she knew what was up), I was hooked.  It was like sugar for my sweet tooth, air in my lungs, and music to my ears.

                I didn’t want to come home.  That was when I knew I wanted to live there.  I immediately started developing the plan in my head on how it was going to become a reality.

                So, I’ve discussed the CR-V part of the title, let me expand on the idiot part. 

                I decided that my $7.25 an hour job wasn’t going to get me anywhere fast, so my dear friend from high school hooked me up with a server job.  I was BIG ballin’ at the end of June with $1000 bucks in my bank account, and I knew that the time was approaching.  I put in my two weeks prior to the last week in July, told my mom on July 27^th that was I moving July 29^th.  That’s right, this idiot gave her parents a two day notice of evacuation of the premises with $1500 IN DA BANK.  Peace out SeTex. 

                Ballin. HA. It makes me “smh” when I think about it. The plan was, I was going to move in with my boyfiend’s mom until I could find a new job and get a place on my own. I would enroll in school as soon as I had things "figured out".  That morning of July 29, 2008 I loaded up my CR-V with all of my clothes, said a very sad goodbye to my parents, and hit the road.  Windows were rolled down, shades were on, cigarette was hanging out of my mouth, and Brand New was blasting.  “Jude Law, and a Semester Abroad”.  That was one of my life’s greatest “Movie moments”.

                The next coming weeks and months would be NOT as I expected.  I was twenty, in love with life, and quite frankly, stupid.