After leaving Vivian, Marilyn and I drove south on Interstate 49, stopping along the way in Breaux Bridge. Breaux Bridge is in the heart of the region known as the Acadian Triangle. A popular restaurant there is Mulate's, and we stopped for Abita and gumbo.
It was dark when we reached Lafayette and the intersection with Interstate 10. After leaving Baton Rouge and heading toward New Orleans, both of us expected few cars on the road. We quickly found the opposite to be true.
We encountered bumper-to-bumper traffic all the way to New Orleans, and there was a steady stream of vehicles exiting the city. Louisiana drivers are horrible! As I maintained a steady 70 mph, car after car sped past me. My nerves were shot as we drove into town, and I wasn't expecting to see the well-lit skyline. The opposite became true as we exited Jefferson Parish and entered Orleans. We found the off-ramp to the French Quarter just as dark and uninviting.
We exited by the Super Dome, and soon became confused and lost. Unable to gain our bearings, we drove in what was likely a large circle. A dark circle. It was then the horror slapped us both smartly in the face. Everything was empty and abandoned. Row after row of storm-damaged buildings lined the dark streets. There was not even a single soul or vehicle in sight.
Spooked by the desolation and destruction so close to the heart of New Orleans, we took Interstate 10 back to Metairie where we found a Hampton Inn that was open for business. All the carpets and base boards were gone but our fifth-floor room was clean, dry and comfortable.
The hotel had no restaurant. The night clerk directed us across the street to a biker bar where a small crowd of mostly unfriendly people smoked and listened to loud, unappealing music. Worried about being mugged, Marilyn and I had several bourbons before returning to our room. Exhausted, we finally fell asleep with nervous visions of a destroyed city waiting for our visit the following morning. http://www.ericwilder.com http://energyissues.blogharbor.com