Katrina's Aftershocks

I am in training this week in New Orleans. I ordered a stretch limo for 10 of us coming from the Los Angeles office to have fun and hoot and holler all the way to our hotel. We crammed the limo wil checked luggage, laptop back packs and our travel-weary bodies and cranked up the base as we toasted with ice-cold beers on our way to the French Quarter.



Little did we know that our excitement would soon turn into a silent dismay and quiet sadness as we passed homes and ghost towns. We bore wintess to torn buildings with telltale watermarks on it's side. To spray painted "X"'s that told searches and of bodies found. This was an alien landscape to me from the hustling and bustling outskirts that surrounded New Orleans. I remember families and friends hanging out at front porches of children playing in fields. All that is left a year later is empty streets and gutted malls.

The ride was humbling. Oh, what a charmed life we tourist live.