Some Goodness

There's been plenty of goodness in my life lately, since I moved to New Orleans. A lot of it has to do, I'm certain, with the karmic powers of the city. Having chosen to give to New Orleans, New Orleans is giving back to me. It's nothing big really, at least that I know of. I mean, I haven't won the jackpot (though maybe New Orleans is just protecting me from the problems of having too much money). It's more like the small-to-medium things: a nice apartment, a good job, great friends, tires that haven't gone flat (yet - you should really see the streets here).

Sometimes, I have to admit, the karma runs a little low. The other Saturday, I set out to accomplish two things and two things only. I failed in both, as the bank had closed 15 minutes prior to my arrival on the premises, and the cell phone store was incommunicado. But these are very mundane details, and were easily resolved once Monday rolled around. And there are some things that not even karma can overcome, witness my misadventure at the Frost-Top burger joint. Specializing in 50's style burgers, fries, and shakes, the Frost-Top is not far from my house, maybe five minutes. A friend of mine was in town, and as we were recovering from the previous night (I recall scaring the morning joggers on St. Charles Avenue, as my friend tried his best to avoid trees and street signs), I thought I would drive down, grab some burgers and fries and cokes and a shake, and be back for lunch. Well, friends, there are some things in New Orleans that one can do, in fact many things, that one cannot do anywhere else. However, by the same karmic token, there are things that can be done elsewhere in the world that simply don't exist within the boundaries of the Republic of New Orleans - and getting a quick bite at the Frost-Top is one of them. In fact, doing anything quickly is a foreign concept here, unless you're talking alcohol, namely the purchase and consumption of. From the time that I left to the time I got back to the house, I was gone 45 minutes. Total driving time was 8 minutes. All I ordered was 2 burgers, small fries, two cokes, and a shake. I gotta say, though, that shake was worth it. Y'all check it out sometime, when you've got an afternoon free for lunch.

But I digress. The city reaches out to envelope you, if you let it. There is a certain ponderousness about its movement, as if it's slowly folding in on itself. "An elegantly maintained decrepitude", as Andrei Codrescu has it, is the air of certain parts of the city, especially the French Quarter and the Garden District, and the Marigny and the Bywater, and parts of Uptown, Esplanade Ridge, and Bayou St. John. If you let the city absorb you - because attempting to absorb the city would certainly be lethal - you will be covered in a magical, bullshit-repellent, karma-enhancing cloak that will allow you to cut right through the garbage of this modern life and see things as they are. And you get an amazing shake or two as lagniappe.

Thinking about it, I feel like I generated some good karma for myself by coming down to the Crescent City. But I don't think I have a monopoly on the karma. All the transplants I've met here, and everyone who has returned since Katrina, we're all under some kind of spell here. Maybe it's the karma, maybe it's the food, the music, the beverages, the all-night drive-through daquiri stands, the 80 degree days in October, the way you can have a 20-minute conversation with anyone, anywhere (including the grocery store), or maybe it's just that this is a special place, and has been for the past 350 years, and will be as long as we can keep the water out of the bowl. Karma sure helps in life, but one man's karma is nothing in comparison to an entire city's. Come on down and get you some.