So it begins....(Pt. 2)

Leaving Tuscaloosa after a couple hours of stretching our legs, we felt energized, ready to tackle the day. Ready, that is, until we realized we had about 10 hours of driving left (This was after driving more or less straight through from 6ish the previous night.) We still had to drive through half of Alabama, a third of Mississippi, and that little bit of Louisiana before New Orleans. So to say that our enthusiasm was tempered would be an understatement. The day dawned very overcast as well, which would later turn into massive rainstorms that would delay us further. It was here that we began to see the climate and landscape differences the most. In Mississippi and Alabama, there are churches EVERYWHERE. Huge, sprawling complexes that are right off the interstate. I was amazed. Coming from a place of very tiny churches by comparison, and combined with the cacophony of preachers coming from our radio that Sunday morning, it was safe to say that the non-gentile in the car was even more surprised than the two Catholics were.

As we headed further south, however, the interstates seemed to more and more try to dodge anything resembling civilization when at all possible. We began to see houses only every couple miles, then every couple dozen miles, then not at all. As we neared the end of Mississippi (yes, that previous paragraph sums up the remainder of our trip through those two states) we saw a sight that rendered us speechless. On our right, as we got off an exit for gas, was a FEMA staging area. Now, for two of us, this was our first exposure to anything storm related, and to say it was chilling was an understatement. On our left as we pulled off the interstate was an enormous fenced in field. In that fenced in field were FEMA trailers lined up like cattle. I mean, thousands upon thousands of trailers packed wall to wall across this field. And behind it, another field full. And next to it, another field. Then, finally, the administration buildings. Now, I can only assume that these were trailers that had since been returned, and one would think that so many such trailers would indicate progress along the gulf coast, right? Not so, my friends, as we would realize in about two hours time.

Presentations

So I was reading this entry on Made to Stick, and it got me to thinking. Our school is supposedly a great business program (and as I move on in my education, I begrudgingly have to admit it is), yet none of our professors encourage this. The presentations we give are not graded at all on creativity or anything. In fact, I would venture to say that, unless a group has established a rapport with the professor and the class as joking around a lot, a light hearted presentation presented the way Made to Stick implies would even receive a lower grade than a nice boring sleepy one. Its odd that at a supposedly Liberal Arts school (though admittedly it's not hugely to the left) would be more progressive with things like this.

Now that I think about it, it makes a lot of sense to run presentations that way. I mean, the goal of presentations is to hold attention and educate, right? And education is definitely reliant on holding people's attention. So this seems to be common sense. Take a page from the entertainment industry, and actually put an effort into satisfying your captive presentation audience. Looking at it that way, the classroom (or boardroom) as a miniature entertainment field, the presenter holds a monopoly, attention has to be on him regardless, and because of that, people don't make that effort to actually draw the attention to themselves. Just think though, how much more fun work would be if they did?

So it begins....(Pt. 1)

I never expected this trip to New Orleans to affect me as much as it did. I didn’t even realize that things were still bad down there. When Mike suggested to all of us that we go down, my first thought was “sweet, road trip with the bros.” It was icing on the cake, but by no means was it a motivating factor on its own. I figured that as long as I went and did the work, that wasn’t that messed up a thing to say, right? How's that for rationalization?

As the date got closer, I started to get worried though. You know, that anxious knot in your stomach where you just expect something bad to happen. And it was mostly due to my family and friends. From how they told it, New Orleans was a wild west town with murderers on every street corner. After hearing them describe it, I was wondering how there was anyone left in the town alive.

But it was a road trip(and an epic one at that…21 hours), and we all know that I can never turn down the open road. I don’t know what it is really, but it definitely is going to factor into my career choices in the next couple months; I just have the wanderlust. Give me the choice between a week on the road, or a week on a resort, and I take the road every time (actually made that choice for this spring break, but those are stories for the future.) Maybe it has something to do with my upbringing, because it can never really be said that I was ever grounded in one place. I lived in California long enough to get attached, while visiting family in New Jersey, then moved to Jersey and kept going back to California. Compare that to some people who don’t leave their hometown until they are 18, and its no wonder that my imagination has no domestic borders. Just the thrill of being in a new state or city is enough.

Its so interesting to see all the differences, even the little things. For example, last year when we went to Texas, it was like driving through the billboard chart. You could listen and tell what songs were popular in certain areas and which were universally popular by the hours of time you spent listening to the radio in each market (except Sunday morning, then every station became a Christian station). To me, that is just really cool (hearing all the different markets, not the plethora of Sunday Masses).

So this road trip was no different. We drove west through Pennsylvania, Virginia, West Virginia, Tennessee, Mississippi, Alabama, and finally Louisiana. That ability to just pull off and just explore is very tempting, and I never thought having something as bland as a map could give such a feeling of freedom. This resulted in two major instances of us exploring and seeing the area. The second, and briefer, was in Louisiana when we pulled off at a NASA installation thinking it would be cool to look around. The very uncool security guard at the gate dissuaded us of that notion, and we turned around as fast as the crappy dodge caravan could(not very fast). The first, and more interesting, was in Tuscaloosa, very early on a Sunday morning, when we decided to look around the University of Alabama. Let me tell you, what a campus. This place was ridiculous. Now, I have seen some large campuses(UNC, U of MD, UDel, UMass) and this one blew them all away. This school did right what ours failed miserably at. They were celebrating their 175th anniversary (our school is on 155), but they actually got the campus to ooze the history. You walk onto that campus, you can feel the history and pride. Keep in mind, this was on a Sunday morning before school started, so we saw a grand total of four people, so all this came from the campus itself. One other point of interest (for now) about the school. Greeks there must be the happiest people in the world. All the houses are these beautiful houses all next to each other, and they are across the street from Bear Bryant Stadium. That is a tailgaters dream come true. On the other side of the houses? A liquor store, deli, and greek embroidery shop. Now, at this point, we are thinking we have died and found our Elysium, but no sooner did we think that than fate slapped us for being so silly; this was the deep south, and on the third side of the houses was a rather large and impressive looking church. Kinda dampens the fun. Then, as we completed the circle, any envy I felt for those Greeks died a very quick death at the site of the campus police station practically on top of the houses. So, they tempt them with huge open porches, a large stadium, and liquor store in spitting distance, then put a church and police on the other side? Talk about mixed messages.

As we left Tuscaloosa, slightly more tired, and mighty disappointed the entire school was asleep/not there, we knew we had lots of road ahead of us (10ish hours, to be exact). What we didn’t know or realize was exactly what waited for us past Lake Pontchartrain.

Introduction

Down in New Orleans, we went to Bourbon Street four times in one week. I mean, how could you not? A bunch of college kids in New Orleans, it seemed only natural. The first night, truthfully I did not know what to expect. The only comparable thing I had ever seen was Beale Street in Memphis, and that only briefly. But, come on, this was Bourbon Street, right? I was ready for anything, but most of all, I was ready to have the time of my life. As we turned off Canal Street and onto Bourbon, my first thought was “wait, this is it?” In front of me stretched about half a block of brick wall(the sides of the buildings facing Canal). The first store on the right was a half-rate White Castle. And the street was empty. Other than us, there were maybe five people, half of them street musicians. Ok, street musicians are cool, maybe this is still good. Then I looked on the other side of the street, saw the Hustler Store, and beyond it, saw neon signs suspended above the street for as far as I could see. That was the final sight that convinced me that it was going to be a great week. It was not to be on this night, though. As that first night wore on, I was sorely disappointed that it never really got crowded. Then I realized it was Monday night and breathed a little sigh of relief. That night, we went with some other people staying at the church, and they took us to this little bar off Bourbon Street that would come to be involved in the rest of our trip, coloring all our Bourbon Street visits afterward. It was a little Irish cop bar, and as soon as I walked in, I knew I loved it. Very simple, very not crowded, very chill. We sat there the first night, and were regaled by the others of the stories they had accumulated in their time in the city. Hearing these stories(ranging from crime to booze to parties to sob stories), it made me realize that there is no easy way to talk about this trip. There is no easy cut and dry way to explain it to people or anything. This city is so different from anything else in our country that you have to tell all these different stories just to even have a chance at grasping the big picture of it. All these stories and emotions are what make up New Orleans now. You can’t just say, “oh the trip was fine” you feel compelled to immerse the person in your trip the way you were immersed in the city. I have found this city very easily to fall in love with, and impossible to fully leave, ever. A part of me will always stay there, in that week, trying to make some kind of a difference.