I went to New Orleans because American culture is this nebulous area that always fascinates me through its, well, vapid, pre-fabricated efficiency.  And yet, this one place is like a little unit of tenacity where people are so happy to be just be there, again, alive, almost well, that they open up and welcome you and all your annoying presuppositions and fussy needs.

Did you know, for example, that the original Blind Mellon bee girl, the one on the cover of the album, worked at Cafe Feelings in Marigny where her large, framed portrait still adorns the wall, right above that of Marylin? Or that the Ursuline Convent on the outskirts of the French Quarter may still house vampires in the attic when they were brought over in wooden cases by young girls to help tend to the sick during a yellow fever epidemic? 

Well, I learned all about it, along with Muffeletta sandwiches, regular and frozen Hand Grenades, delectable drinks that combines ten different liquors in a giant plastic cup with a grenade-shaped bottom or the ever popular Hurricane (Rum, corn starch, high fructose corn syrup, red 40). 

I also learned that no matter how severe the destruction and destitution, a sunny disposition can be served up with a heavy cream sauce and a large, friendly smile.