The wind reminds me of the time I rode out tropical storm Igor in New Orleans. I was living in a little slave quarter apartment on Dauphine in the French Quarter. I had just stopped drinking a few days prior and was in the throws of some serious DTs. I was broke and had spent my last 20 bucks on some crackers, peanut butter, water and Marilyn Mansons Mechanical Animals, which was just released that day. Halfway through the CD the power went out. The winds were slowly ratcheting up to a deafening roar. The tea candles I bought were not staying lit, as the wind was making its way through the clanking storm shutters. I remember sitting on the floor, terrified. It didnt help that the place was haunted. Id woken up on several occasions to see a little old lady sitting at the foot of my bed. Silverware would be rearranged when Id come home, doors shut on their own. And this night was no different. The wind was like a freight train - and I was the hobo holding on for dear life. At some point, after hours of sitting in the dark, in the clutches of the dark forbidding forces around me, I passed out. Exhaustion set in. I awoke hours later, at daybreak, to calm skies and flooded streets. It would take a few days for the city to recover. And when it did, I told my landlord I was breaking my lease and moving out. When I told him about the old lady I expected a laugh - but instead I got a solemn youre not the first person to move out because of her.....
Posted on: Thu, 11 Dec 2014 09:02:41 +0000
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