Sometimes, living in this city is like dealing with an abusive spouse. You stay, even though it's destructive. The reasons to leave just go on and on. It's like living inside an episode of The Wire.
I mean, come on! I named my blog Nola-dishu for christ-sakes.
Here's what's keeping me going in this city:
* My job (which I love)
* The food
* Occasional quirky incidents
Here's what I mean by that last one. I was watching Krewe Du Vieux the other day and something that could only happen in New Orleans occurred.
The parade was stopped and I was walking through the krewe members with my friends and then this lady stops me and says, "suck on my tits."
"Suck on my tits," she said. Upon closer inspection, I realized she was wearing a bra made of water bottles. After 'further' inspection, I discovered they were filled with White Russian.
That lady was a complete stranger and I have no idea who she was. That incident would NEVER happen in ANY other city in America.
And yet, she wasn't a stranger. She was a fellow inmate at the asylum.