I was watching Fox News while folding laundry and getting ready for our camping trip. Night was descending on New Orleans and the reporters in the field are increasingly frustrated. Geraldo Rivera is stationed at the convention center, and I am witnessing a man as he is quickly becoming unglued.
He had tears running down his cheeks as he was holding someone's 10 month old baby, a baby who probably hasn't had a diaper change in 2 days. He was freaking out about how people there are being ignored and were dying. Tourists and guests at the W hotel were put into the front of the line to get out of town days ago, and the residents of New Orleans are all still there. Stranded. Food and water by the truckload has been coming in to the Superdome and other places but the Convention Center is under lockdown for some reason. No one can even walk away to go somewhere else, to strike out on his or her own... and they are dying there and on the highway above.
Geraldo was screaming at the camera, screaming to anyone who will listen, "Why won't they let the people leave, just walk away from here. Go and find food and water. Why are they being held? Why won't they let those who can go. WHAT THE HELL!!!!"
As the sun is failing, so is his composure. Shutting down, turning dark, and coming undone.
They interviewed Shepard Smith, who is standing on the bridge above the Convention Center, and he said the same thing. He responded to Geraldo's "What the hell!" with the fact that a checkpoint is on the end of the bridge preventing anyone from leaving. Convoy trucks were driving behind him, passing the hundreds of people camped out on the bridge. Not stopping. Most likely filled with supplies, but not for these people on the overpass or underneath at the Convention Tomb.
I had to walk away. I had a bad feeling that it was going to be a very bad night in New Orleans.
Geoff asked me yesterday "If they rebuild New Orleans, will they name it New New Orleans?" And I thought of New New York on Futurama and had to laugh in spite of my feelings. Thank you Matt Groening. I have no idea what they'll name it or even if they should rebuild it. Not that it isn't worth it, but can we afford to go through this again?
I wrote the rest of this entry before I wrote the above. It has a more jolly sense to it, and it is about camping and having fun and being stinky willingly. Upon reflection, I was going to delete it, but it just shows that I'm going through some mood swings and really should not be watching Geraldo Rivera freaking out.
Indeed, Geraldo. What the hell indeed? God save us all.
Allis, Here We Come!
We cannot check in until 2pm. Google Maps tells me this trip should take just under four hours. We gassed up last night, before the prices rise yet again this morning. I think we're going to go and buy a French press for coffee... if we can find one. The coffee singles by Maxwell House just do not provide enough life-lifting elixir for my liking. I'd also like an air mattress and a new tarp. So a visit to Sprawl-Mart or Target may bring me all my camping desires.
I'm not high maintenance or anything.
A lot of my gal readers may be totally skeeved out, but I can honestly forego showering for a couple of days. Ewww! I know! How French of me. Seriously though, I am in touch with my inner caveman. I can shower Saturday morning and be perfectly happy not showering until I get home on Monday night. I will get good and sweaty and hikey and muddy and stinky on Saturday, maybe get a swim in some sort of aneurysm inducing freezing pond or waterfall, and be perfectly happy sitting around in my own filth that night. And I'll do it again on Sunday... and then Monday, perhaps a shower before the drive out just so my truck doesn't smell too assy by Tuesday morning.
Yeah, baby. That's what camping is all about. Releasing all those inhibitions. My hands and face will be clean. I'll have a hat on to hide my scary Medusa locks. Cleanliness in other regions of the body won't be that important to me. I'm free from the Health and Beauty slavery for a few days... not that I'm much of a slave to it in the first place.
We're going farther up into the north of Vermont than I would have liked. It was one of the very few within a four hour drive that had space. We could have gone somewhere with "primitive" facilities out in Western MA but Doug didn't book it on Thursday night when we were shopping for places -- thank Gord. I may be low maintenance but I prefer not to use an outhouse shitter this late in the season, if you know what I mean.
I was incredibly happy to score this spot after trying all the southern Vermont tier campgrounds. The staff member I spoke with was incredibly friendly and nice, we joked around about how Massachusetts people drive right over the border and just plop down. He said they were remote and he always has space. I told him I didn't want to camp a mile away from I-89, that remote sounded damn good to me... so he said "Alright! Rock on."
Any state employee who says Rock On is a friend of mine.
Jessica is not coming with us. She was invited to go RV camping (aka FAKE camping) with her friend Courtney and family. For someone who hates going camping so damn much she sure was eager to go with someone with an RV. I'm going to miss her horribly because even though she is reluctant she can be helpful. She sleeps in the truck with the dogs, which means this time the dogs will have to be in the tent with us... and that could prove a tad over cozy. Maybe I'll pass on that air mattress after all... hmmm.
We dropped her off and Geoff was PISSED that she was going RV camping. He made me miserable for three hours in the afternoon yesterday bitching and moaning about sleeping on the ground and in a tent and not having an RV and they have a cool RV and why can't we have an RV.
I was ready to put him under the RV. Just drive back over there and say "Hey, Lyle... back up over this lump wouldya?"
I don't want an RV. I don't see the point in getting back to nature in a building that I drive to nature in. I don't see the point in getting 3 miles to the gallon. It's bad enough I get 17 in the truck. I think getting away from the four wall rectangle or square concept is important once in a while. I'm not saying I'd like to live in a geodesic dome or anything, but I'm all set in breaking free from the modern constraints for a while.
Like a week, but with a shower in the middle. Like I said, I'm not high maintenance.
So. This is it. We're off. Allis, here we come. Hopefully I'll have some stupendous SUNNY pictures for you and none of this freezing cold rain crap that I've had to put up with lately. Whatever you're doing this weekend, be happy and safe. Or else my sweaty armpit is gonna gitcha on Monday night!
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