Crescent City

Day 3: Hump day! Wednesday was the first clue that I might not make it through the whole week unscathed. Bright and shiny we met at Bayou Rebirth's nursery to be led into the wild blue yonder of a real live bayou. Unfortunately their truck wasn't quite in working repair. While the men folk tinkered with the engine (and by tinker I mean remove large parts of the engine that I'm pretty sure are necessary to its proper functioning) we occupied ourselves by devising a hockey-type game with broom sticks. But sun exhaustion and a twisted knee and a replacement truck conspired to cut the game short.

Driving to the site, we passed endless waterways and several oil refineries to arrive at a newly built waterfront park. On site we dug through the bucket o' waders to find boots in a size approximating our own and then headed into the water to plant the marsh grasses that we had lovingly repotted the day before. This was more complicated than you might imagine as mucking through two feet of water (and a foot of mud) in incorrectly sized boots leads to imbalance and wet pants.
After lunch crossed the water to plant cane. The boat ride would have been much nicer if waders in direct sunlight didn't conduct so much heat but it was a nice opportunity to see the innards of a bayou. I may or may not have seen an alligator and some of the girls swear to having spotted a dinosaur. We did positively identify several nesting kildeer.
Night 3: Anyhoo, at the end of the day we were glad to peel off four feet of rubber and make our way towards Lafayette Square for Wednesday at the Square, "a free, 12-week concert series with food and drink for sale to benefit the Young Leadership Council." Of course we benefited the Council by purchasing Mar-GO-ritas, the adult version of a Capri sun and then went to soak up the alcohol at Deanie's Seafood because "you haven’t done New Orleans, until you’ve done Deanie’s." After doing Deanie's (and boy did we do Deanie's) we walked off all the fried, steamed, and boiled fish-y goodness on the way to d.b.a.

According to their website, d.b.a.'s "building dates back to the 1880's, and musicians say the all cypress wood music room is one of the warmest sounding rooms in New Orleans." The website also says that it's located it one of the hippest neighborhoods in the country besides perhaps Williamsburg, Brooklyn. I maintain that Frenchmen Street and its live music venues and Creole mansions is way super cooler than the hipster haven. After drinking, dancing and feeding Philip (as in fill-up the tip jar) we caught a cab back to our plush bunk beds to dream of marsh grass and levees set to a blues soundtrack.

Let's just move right on to Day 4: Switching gears we began work with Habitat for Humanity. Although our crew leaders were total hotties and I could forgive them most anything I would have appreciated more of a welcome to the work day than "We have a lot of injuries each year. Please don't cut your fingers off or get hit on the head with a two by four." But besides the admonition not to rest tools on top of ladders that was about it; we were broken into teams and set to work hanging Tyvek sheets.


I immediately admitted to my team my complete inability to stand on ladders and do anything but stand. I was not blessed with a surplus of balance, if any, and was so relegated to the post of "ladder- holder and hammerer of low things" for the morning. At one point a two by four fell on my head. Seriously. Anyhoo, it was not an ideal job for any of us as there was no shade and boy is Tyvek reflective. We did take a brief break to construct a fort out of extra boards to provide a refuge from the blinding rays of the sun but I realized early on that any more time in the sun might cause my arms to fall off so after lunch I bribed someone with an inside job to take my place.

I spent the afternoon cowering in the shade and happily painting things blue. My arms, unfortunately had already started to blister a little (I'm allergic to the sun. neat huh?) which prompted a rational fear of what Friday might bring. But I didn't concern myself overly because of what Night 4 had in store.
Night 4: The leader of the gang (the fearless Brian, Lousiana native) had prepared a crawfish boil for us. We arrived to his house to be greeted by the spectre of 60 pounds of dead crustaceans on a table, with more in a large vat stirred with an oar. Also on the menu were corn on the cob, boiled potatoes and artichokes all smothered in cayenne pepper (which incidentally stings quite a bit when it comes into contact with your eyeballs) and a healthy selection of Abita, the local brew.

We spent the evening schmoozing and competition story-telling before Brian's neighbor hit on the bright idea of dragging us all to Rock and Bowl. Evidently this woman had an in so we paid a $5 cover and were treated to free shoes, $1 socks (bleached to germ free perfection), and an hour of bowling... to the sultry tunes of live zydeco. There was even a man with a washboard. It was perhaps the hippest bowling experience I've ever had. The lanes were new and pristine and the building featured a huge bar and dance floor.

In some fluke of lane assignments, I got a whole lane to myself and played against myself in five different positions. I impressed by bowling pretty much continuously for an entire hour and scoring higher than 60 for each spot. Sober with a tired arm I was in that first car to skedaddle home at 2am. We closed that place DOWN.

Does our hero survive Friday with only four hours of sleep and facing the threat of sun poisoning? Stay tuned for the next installment...