There are two things on my mind as of late and I think both of them need to be expressed in blog form in order for me to free my mind of the maddening rants swirling around inside.
(By the way, I'm writing this from the comfort of Lindsey's living room....AWESOME!)
NUMBER ONE: Movies are too long.
Vee and I saw Pirates of the Carribean on Thursday night, and despite my brother's high opinion, I thought that it was a great movie turned mediocre by the length of it. The special effects are amazing, the stories great, the action is awesome and Johnny Depp's the man. Those are all givens. But, here's the thing, in between all those things, I was bored.
Note to director's everywhere: Longer is not always better. King Kong, 30 minutes too long. Spiderman 2, 20 minutes too long. Return of the King and it's three seperate endings, 45 minutes too long.
Just because you think you're a visionary and you want to put the full force of your artistic mind into your work, doesn't mean do it. It's your job to give the audience the best experience possible not feed your egotistical urges. Especially in the age of the DVD, save it, ladies and gentlemen, that's what bonus features are for.
A person's enjoyment of a motion picture is directly porportional to the severity of their ass ache. Two hours, folks. That's it.
NUMBER TWO: Royals' Executives are idiots.
Lindsey and I took Wesley and Cori to the Royals' game last night and while the game was good, (I swear we're lucky charms, all four games we've been to have been wins) the whole experience was just rediculous. Four hot dogs, and a Jumbo hot dog, three sodas=$34.75. Cotton Candy, Two Ice Cream, Peanuts, and a Water=$15.00. Not to mention 7 dollars a seat in the nose bleed section.
But here's the kicker, baseball fans. We are sitting in a half empty stadium, watching the worst team maybe in baseball history, and the Kaufmann staff are throwing people out of seats left and right. I thought perhaps that it would end after a few innings, but it lasted to the absolute end of the game. We're sitting next to a completely empty section and when some people in front of us moved just across the aisle, the staff girl runs of the stairs to kick them back out.
Seriously people, who are you saving these seats for? Who's rushing to the stadium to see what the abysmal Royals are doing in the 7th inning?!
Royals' Execs, you worried about money, worried about moral, and filling the seats? Lower prices everywhere, all the time, not just crappy hot dogs on Buck Night (of which I had 7 the last time!) and STOP BEING TICKET NAZI'S!!!!
Alright, I think I'm done, except to say that the kids were awesome and Fireworks Friday is the only thing that makes the Royals Stadium crap worth it.
'Ello Beastie....
Brad
Saturday, July 22, 2006
Wednesday, July 19, 2006
Wired Up
Hey everybody,
I'm currently posting this blog from Lindsey's couch watching King of the Hill on FX. That's right, I'm the proud owner of a Dell Inspiron E1505 Notebook computer and the proud stealer of someone's wireless connection somewhere in this building. I'm also going to LEGALLY purchase wireless for myself. So, within the next couple of weeks expect major advancements to the blog of the misspelled ZepplinRules.
thanks mom and dad,
Brad, or my new hacker alias, Orephus
I'm currently posting this blog from Lindsey's couch watching King of the Hill on FX. That's right, I'm the proud owner of a Dell Inspiron E1505 Notebook computer and the proud stealer of someone's wireless connection somewhere in this building. I'm also going to LEGALLY purchase wireless for myself. So, within the next couple of weeks expect major advancements to the blog of the misspelled ZepplinRules.
thanks mom and dad,
Brad, or my new hacker alias, Orephus
Tuesday, July 18, 2006
Sunday, July 16, 2006
Arrested Development
Hey everybody,
Thursday of this week I will be arrested. The MDA is holding me for an undisclosed charge at the Brio Tuscan Grill unless I raise the bail money. My bail has been set at $600 dollars, the cost of sending one of Jerry's Kids to summer camp.
Please give all that you can, 25, 50, 100 dollars. The kids need your help and so do I, 'cause I don't really want to spend my afternoon in a restaurant with a bunch of strangers. I've got work to do!
Make checks payable to MDA and mail them to Brad Bryan c/o Central UMC 5144 Oak Street Kansas City, MO 64112.
Thanks for the help, Brad
Thursday of this week I will be arrested. The MDA is holding me for an undisclosed charge at the Brio Tuscan Grill unless I raise the bail money. My bail has been set at $600 dollars, the cost of sending one of Jerry's Kids to summer camp.
Please give all that you can, 25, 50, 100 dollars. The kids need your help and so do I, 'cause I don't really want to spend my afternoon in a restaurant with a bunch of strangers. I've got work to do!
Make checks payable to MDA and mail them to Brad Bryan c/o Central UMC 5144 Oak Street Kansas City, MO 64112.
Thanks for the help, Brad
Thursday, July 13, 2006
Wednesday, July 12, 2006
Old Man Rant
Alright, so as I was proofreading my blog yesterday, as I do on a regular basis since I want to give all of you who take the time to stop by the best product possible, I read something that might need some further explanation.
When I say that going to the water park made me feel like I was going to hell every three seconds, I want the world to know that I was not checking out 14-18 year old girls. I don't think anyone who went on the trip read it that way, we joked about it all week, but I can see clearly how someone else could read it wrong. I wasn't checking anyone out. To look around at Blue Bayou Water Park and not see a 14-18 year old girl in a bikini would be kinda like looking around Blue Bayou Water Park and not seeing WATER!
So, here's the rant. Most of my girls' arguments against one piece swimsuits is that they're impossible to find, and I have to respect that. So, they ended up wearing tank tops over their bikinis, which is NOT just as good. But I have to wonder how difficult it is to try and raise a young lady in today's world who respects herself and her body and those around her.
Look at the TV and the movies. Everywhere we look we see that dressing like this and acting like this is OK, is actually the cool thing to do. Lindsey Lohan, Paris Hilton, even squeaky clean Hilary Duff, I would never let my daughter out of the house in the things they wear. But, everyday on the TV or in the magazines there they are, hanging out all over the place, teaching young girls who want to be like them that it's ok to wear clothes that don't cover 90% of your body.
So, I understand, it's not my girls fault! You can't find a shirt that's not tight or doesn't show belly. You can't find pants that don't come down so far you can almost see...well...you know. They don't make them. So, even if girls wanted to they couldn't.
So, I guess this message is to clothing designers as much as it is girls. Anyone remember how mystery is sexy? I'm not a prude by any stretch of the imagination, but ya know what sometimes its what you DON'T see that's the turn on. For example: I think Jessica Alba is the hottest girl around simply because she hasn't shone her boobs in a movie to get to the top.
OK, so I felt like I was going to hell at the water park because of what my eyes saw. And I would have to be blind and my eyes ripped out with a soup spoon to not see it.
These days you tell a girl she looks like a prostitute and she says thank you!
Alright, a couple of "Get off my lawns", "Turn down that music's", and "This is a street not a racetrack's" and I'm officially my grandfather.
See ya, everybody,
Brad
When I say that going to the water park made me feel like I was going to hell every three seconds, I want the world to know that I was not checking out 14-18 year old girls. I don't think anyone who went on the trip read it that way, we joked about it all week, but I can see clearly how someone else could read it wrong. I wasn't checking anyone out. To look around at Blue Bayou Water Park and not see a 14-18 year old girl in a bikini would be kinda like looking around Blue Bayou Water Park and not seeing WATER!
So, here's the rant. Most of my girls' arguments against one piece swimsuits is that they're impossible to find, and I have to respect that. So, they ended up wearing tank tops over their bikinis, which is NOT just as good. But I have to wonder how difficult it is to try and raise a young lady in today's world who respects herself and her body and those around her.
Look at the TV and the movies. Everywhere we look we see that dressing like this and acting like this is OK, is actually the cool thing to do. Lindsey Lohan, Paris Hilton, even squeaky clean Hilary Duff, I would never let my daughter out of the house in the things they wear. But, everyday on the TV or in the magazines there they are, hanging out all over the place, teaching young girls who want to be like them that it's ok to wear clothes that don't cover 90% of your body.
So, I understand, it's not my girls fault! You can't find a shirt that's not tight or doesn't show belly. You can't find pants that don't come down so far you can almost see...well...you know. They don't make them. So, even if girls wanted to they couldn't.
So, I guess this message is to clothing designers as much as it is girls. Anyone remember how mystery is sexy? I'm not a prude by any stretch of the imagination, but ya know what sometimes its what you DON'T see that's the turn on. For example: I think Jessica Alba is the hottest girl around simply because she hasn't shone her boobs in a movie to get to the top.
OK, so I felt like I was going to hell at the water park because of what my eyes saw. And I would have to be blind and my eyes ripped out with a soup spoon to not see it.
These days you tell a girl she looks like a prostitute and she says thank you!
Alright, a couple of "Get off my lawns", "Turn down that music's", and "This is a street not a racetrack's" and I'm officially my grandfather.
See ya, everybody,
Brad
Wednesday, July 05, 2006
Louisiana BaYOO!
Greetings and Salutations One and All,
I'm back. If you weren't yourself presently aware, my grammer sucks. Also, I've been gone for a week on a mission trip to Louisianna. Here's the recap.
Unbelievable, horrific, rewarding, amazing, hilarious, heart-wrenching, exhausting. If you're interested in more detailed info, read on.
Well, a week ago Saturday I was in a wedding and Mrs. Caldwell was in another so we drove the I-70 Train together later that night. Mustoe and Adam were waiting for us at the door and after about a half an hour I was out on the floor. Not a big day, although Dru and I did have some good talks.
Sunday we drove and drove and drove and drove. I have to hand it to my van rental guy, 'cause we had a sweet ride. On the way down we watched Meet the Fockers, Karate Kid Part. 1, Ghostbusters, Star Wars: A New Hope, and some SNL dvds. We arrived in Kenner (See ya in Kenner) LA around 6:30 or 7:00. Had dinner and met with our work groups for the first time.
Monday was a short work day because of orientation. There were mainly three guys in charge, Darrel, Warren, and Tommy. Tommy moved down from Detroit or somewhere and has been sleeping on a cot in a Sunday School room for ten months. He was just recently given a part time position, before that he was all volunteer. Anyway, the orientation was not exactly uplifting. Lots of "wear your masks all the time" and "watch out for snakes". Also, a lot of "the bad element has returned". But it was good and these guys really know what they're talking about. So, we headed to work.
...And got lost. The guy in the lead, Vince, has never heard of "Being in the lead etiquette". Changing lanes without signaling, turning right on red. It was impossible. But, we eventually got to our worksite around lunch time, so we ate before we got work.
We split up the youth groups into 6 work teams for the week, which, MUSTOE, I think was a great idea. My work group was Leah, Caldwell's sister, Andy, an adult from Mustoe's church who attends Dad's church when he's in school, Anna, Tim, Sexy Lexi (Alex), Niky and Renee from Mustoe's church, Galen and Emily from my church, and Danielle from Florida. Great bunch of folks that I'm better off for having met.
Our first house, due to a not-out-fault mixup, was to be worked on by three teams until a dry wall job could be found. That's a lot of people for a tiny house. We carried out ruined furniture, the fridge, old pictures of kids birthday parties and posed by the Christmas tree. Then we started tearing down the destroyed drywall. Which, with all the reverance to a person's home I can have. Was FREAKIN' AWESOME!!!!!! So, that was fun, and that was pretty much our first day.
Like usually happens with me, everybody I first met, especially NicNic and NayNay (the girls from my group), thought I hated them at first. Although this was not the case, I spent most of the first night with my kids, joking around and playing cards. Later I explained to the girls that if I were nice to them, I could go to jail, so they understood, after telling me they thought I was a grumpy 84 year old man trapped in a 24 year old body, which sounds about right to me. But, by the end of the trip, we all loved each other like it should've been. Being down there, in LA i mean, with people you don't know, is a good way to get to know them pretty quick.
Alright, it went on like that for a two more days. One group went off to be drywalling experts, Dru!, and my team and Dustin Bryson's team continued with the house. So, within the recap, I will recap some funny/touching stories from our house.
We never met our lady, which was sad, but we did meet her mother. The first day, Galen, of course it's one of my kids, decided to help two other guys get the kitchen counter down. The other two guys knew the water was off, Galen didn't. Galen took a big old sledge hammer swing to the edge of the sink and a steady stream of water about an inch in diameter sprayed all the way across the room to the opposite wall. We took the fridge out of the kitchen window, which was kinda fun. The three muskateers, Alex, Galen and Nathan took down the cealings and had to wear funny "ET" suits that, judging from the sweat pouring off them at break time, hot as hell. It was good getting to know Dustin, he's a cool cat, although he sucks at the Cajun pronunciation game. He's kinda like Babe Ruth: he strikes out a lot, but when he gets a hold of one, it's out of the park. Niky and Renee found a bunch of change, which I said throw out of course (remember, grumpy old man) but they kept it and counted it and when it came ot 49 dollars, added a dollar of their own, which I thought was pretty cool of them. My relationship with my group solidified at the end of the second day when a water fight broke out waiting for the other group. They learned that I wasn't grumpy all the time, I'm just quiet and have that look. They also learned that about half of what I say is not to be taken seriously.
So, that's our house. From Monday to 1:00 Wednesday we completely cleaned out, gutted and swept up a house, bringing our lady one step closer to moving back into her home.
Wednesday afternoon was really cool. We took 7 vehicles, bad idea, on a tour of New Orleans. Our first stop was the 17th Street Canal, where one of the levees broke. The most fascinating thing was a row of town houses. There were three townhomes connected to each other, a hundred yard gap where nothing stood, and then four more identical townhomes on the other side of the levee break. A FOOTBALL FIELD SIZE STREACH OF HOMES, GONE. But, it was amazing to see the rebuilding process in this area, the rich side town, and compare it to where we were working. It was great to see my kid Dylan in his element, which is photography. Dylan is Dennis the Menace, Bart Simpson, and the squirrel from Over the Hedge, rolled into one and dipped into a bathtub of liquified Speed. But put a camera in his hands and he could be mistaken for an adult.
From our stop in the rebuilding rich, white neighborhood, we drove to the Ninth Ward, one of the poorest areas of our NATION let alone New Orleans. We saw the infamous house-on-top-of-a-truck. We saw a tree growing inside a car. We saw a lone tricycle in the front yard. I cannot explain to you in words what it felt like to be there, or even what it truly looked like. It looked kinda like a movie set, which Caldwell and I made a joke about which I'm sick to my stomach thinking about still. Surreal is only part of it. It's the most surreal place I've ever been, yet at the same time, it's more real than anything I've ever seen.
The Ninth Ward will not be reconstructed. It will be bulldozed. Acres and Acres of neighborhood, gone forever. Turned into a greenspace, a park across the river from the real neighborhoods, the ones worth rebuilding, the white neighborhood, the rich neighborhood.
The Ninth Ward is where we met Roosevelt. Roosevelt came riding up on his bike and asked one of our girls (who was not by herself, don't worry) if we were a church group and could we pray for him. She got an adult, and the adult found me. I thought that myself and the other adult would put our hands on Roosevelt and move off to the corner and say a prayer. But as we moved about twenty-thirty kids got in a circle around Roosevelt. We joined hands and I said a prayer. The girls were crying, the guys were trying not to and failing. As Roosevelt thanked us and turned to ride off he said, "Now I gotta go find somewhere to sleep tonight."
I need a minute after typing that, and I was there, so take a minute, there's much much more!!
After the Ninth Ward we went down to the still-intact French Quarter, which seemed to me like a dirtier Las Vegas with more culture. I didn't like it. It was 7:30 on a Wednesday night and there were guys stumbling drunk in the streets and girls in bikinis handing out jello shots on the corners. Not for me.
Thursday was another work day, and, I think, the best. Mustoe joined our work team of two groups, so I got hang out with him all day, which was nice. I'd've (that's right, the double contraction, what are you gonna do about it?) liked to work with Caldwell some but we didn't get a chance to, except of course for THE FRIDGE which I'll get to in a second. The owner was there on Thursday. She was Thai with a name like Mena, or Myna. It was pretty but I couldn't pronouce it. She was a widow, not from the flood, who lived alone in the big house. She had driven from Dallas just to be with us as we worked on her house. We only had one day here so we made a plan and got to work. Highlights: cutting my finger and actually feeling like I did something that week, the rats in the kitchen, and , of course, demolishing the bathroom in the garage. There was this built bathroom our in the garage, literally like a Water Closet. Mustoe, Nathan, Galen and myself totally smacked that thing up like Ike Turner (sorry old joke for mustoe). The ax worked the best. We swung at the wooden doors of the closet with all our might, throwing out sholders and tearing down the wood frame. Mustoe had a mis-hit, and immediately went into the Colossus Power-Up from the old X-Men video game. The next time I"m with any of you, ask me to do it for you but it looks like this aaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAARGGH!
And then took off the whole door in his next swing. I tell, if there was a soundtrack to my life, it would've been playing "Damn It Feels Good to be a Gangsta" or "O Fortuna" (that opera music that's played when the ringwraiths are chasing Frodo on that elf chicks horse). It was beautiful. After we were sure that the bathroom was dead, we came out to find Mena, her son-in-law, and Dustin in the backyard looking at us like idiots.
One more story and then the water park and then we're done guys, lower your sholder and power through to the end.
Everything was going smoothly at Mena's house, until we went 'round the corner and saw a giant fridge laying on its back. We tried moving out long ways, side ways and upside down. We took the doors off the house and tried again. Nothing. When Mena said in her thick Thai that she had to take to door off to get the fridge inside, we thought she meant the back door to the house. She didn't. This fridge was not leaving the house with its doors on. Let me set this up a little. This fridge had food inside it, Milk, Mayo, Eggs, that had been through a hurricane, through a flood, and then had sat for ten months in LA heat and humidity. We decided to wait for the end of the day to get the fridge out. So, when everything else was done, and everyone else was in the vans with the air on and plenty of water, Adam Caldwell, Mustoe, Dustin, Jake and I went back inside to get the fridge. We came up with a plan and executed. Dustin pulled the doors off, we tipped it over on it's side and Jake and a kid named Tyce hoed out all the rotten, disgusting food onto a tarp. When they started hoeing, and got all that riled up and moving again, it wasn't overwhelming, it was worse. Every few breaths you'd get a mouthful of the most fowl smelling, putrid thing in the whole world. Then you'd have some ok breaths, and that fowl monster would come back. Truly gut-wrenching. We pushed the doorless beast out the back door and to the curb. Got in the trucks and drove away.
The next day I thought I was going to hell about every three seconds. We went to the Blue Bayou Water Park and all of Mustoe and my girls put on their swimsuits. My girls were prepared with t-shirts and tank tops to where over them but when I saw that Mustoe's group had not apparently heard him when we said no two-pieces (something "He just wouldn't think of") I told my girls they could do as they pleased. And so, for the next 6 hours I thought I was going straight to hell about every three seconds.
The water park, exept of the hell part, was awesome. Adam, Mustoe, Jake and I, weighed so much that we got the most air on this one ride that the lifegaurd had ever seen. And then, the most amazing three hours of my life ensued. Mustoe, rented tubes, Lazy River, Three and a Half hours. That's right, Mustoe and I spent three and a half hours after lunch innertubing round and round the lazy river. It was glorious. Different groups of kids and adults would come to see us (I'd feel like going to hell some more). We talked about stuff, and nothing. We talked and not talked, we not-talked for hours. It was awesome.
Alright, everybody, the longest blog entry in the world is finally complete. If you have a chance to go on a trip to New Orleans, go right away. It was unbelievable but I'm glad to be home.
"You must be the change you seek" -Ghandi
Too summerize this whole entry in Cajun:
Salutation
Transportation
Introductions
Communication
Deconstruction
Devastation
Repulsion
Completion
Anticipation
Damnation
Exhaustion
I'm outie 5,000, take it sleazy,
B
I'm back. If you weren't yourself presently aware, my grammer sucks. Also, I've been gone for a week on a mission trip to Louisianna. Here's the recap.
Unbelievable, horrific, rewarding, amazing, hilarious, heart-wrenching, exhausting. If you're interested in more detailed info, read on.
Well, a week ago Saturday I was in a wedding and Mrs. Caldwell was in another so we drove the I-70 Train together later that night. Mustoe and Adam were waiting for us at the door and after about a half an hour I was out on the floor. Not a big day, although Dru and I did have some good talks.
Sunday we drove and drove and drove and drove. I have to hand it to my van rental guy, 'cause we had a sweet ride. On the way down we watched Meet the Fockers, Karate Kid Part. 1, Ghostbusters, Star Wars: A New Hope, and some SNL dvds. We arrived in Kenner (See ya in Kenner) LA around 6:30 or 7:00. Had dinner and met with our work groups for the first time.
Monday was a short work day because of orientation. There were mainly three guys in charge, Darrel, Warren, and Tommy. Tommy moved down from Detroit or somewhere and has been sleeping on a cot in a Sunday School room for ten months. He was just recently given a part time position, before that he was all volunteer. Anyway, the orientation was not exactly uplifting. Lots of "wear your masks all the time" and "watch out for snakes". Also, a lot of "the bad element has returned". But it was good and these guys really know what they're talking about. So, we headed to work.
...And got lost. The guy in the lead, Vince, has never heard of "Being in the lead etiquette". Changing lanes without signaling, turning right on red. It was impossible. But, we eventually got to our worksite around lunch time, so we ate before we got work.
We split up the youth groups into 6 work teams for the week, which, MUSTOE, I think was a great idea. My work group was Leah, Caldwell's sister, Andy, an adult from Mustoe's church who attends Dad's church when he's in school, Anna, Tim, Sexy Lexi (Alex), Niky and Renee from Mustoe's church, Galen and Emily from my church, and Danielle from Florida. Great bunch of folks that I'm better off for having met.
Our first house, due to a not-out-fault mixup, was to be worked on by three teams until a dry wall job could be found. That's a lot of people for a tiny house. We carried out ruined furniture, the fridge, old pictures of kids birthday parties and posed by the Christmas tree. Then we started tearing down the destroyed drywall. Which, with all the reverance to a person's home I can have. Was FREAKIN' AWESOME!!!!!! So, that was fun, and that was pretty much our first day.
Like usually happens with me, everybody I first met, especially NicNic and NayNay (the girls from my group), thought I hated them at first. Although this was not the case, I spent most of the first night with my kids, joking around and playing cards. Later I explained to the girls that if I were nice to them, I could go to jail, so they understood, after telling me they thought I was a grumpy 84 year old man trapped in a 24 year old body, which sounds about right to me. But, by the end of the trip, we all loved each other like it should've been. Being down there, in LA i mean, with people you don't know, is a good way to get to know them pretty quick.
Alright, it went on like that for a two more days. One group went off to be drywalling experts, Dru!, and my team and Dustin Bryson's team continued with the house. So, within the recap, I will recap some funny/touching stories from our house.
We never met our lady, which was sad, but we did meet her mother. The first day, Galen, of course it's one of my kids, decided to help two other guys get the kitchen counter down. The other two guys knew the water was off, Galen didn't. Galen took a big old sledge hammer swing to the edge of the sink and a steady stream of water about an inch in diameter sprayed all the way across the room to the opposite wall. We took the fridge out of the kitchen window, which was kinda fun. The three muskateers, Alex, Galen and Nathan took down the cealings and had to wear funny "ET" suits that, judging from the sweat pouring off them at break time, hot as hell. It was good getting to know Dustin, he's a cool cat, although he sucks at the Cajun pronunciation game. He's kinda like Babe Ruth: he strikes out a lot, but when he gets a hold of one, it's out of the park. Niky and Renee found a bunch of change, which I said throw out of course (remember, grumpy old man) but they kept it and counted it and when it came ot 49 dollars, added a dollar of their own, which I thought was pretty cool of them. My relationship with my group solidified at the end of the second day when a water fight broke out waiting for the other group. They learned that I wasn't grumpy all the time, I'm just quiet and have that look. They also learned that about half of what I say is not to be taken seriously.
So, that's our house. From Monday to 1:00 Wednesday we completely cleaned out, gutted and swept up a house, bringing our lady one step closer to moving back into her home.
Wednesday afternoon was really cool. We took 7 vehicles, bad idea, on a tour of New Orleans. Our first stop was the 17th Street Canal, where one of the levees broke. The most fascinating thing was a row of town houses. There were three townhomes connected to each other, a hundred yard gap where nothing stood, and then four more identical townhomes on the other side of the levee break. A FOOTBALL FIELD SIZE STREACH OF HOMES, GONE. But, it was amazing to see the rebuilding process in this area, the rich side town, and compare it to where we were working. It was great to see my kid Dylan in his element, which is photography. Dylan is Dennis the Menace, Bart Simpson, and the squirrel from Over the Hedge, rolled into one and dipped into a bathtub of liquified Speed. But put a camera in his hands and he could be mistaken for an adult.
From our stop in the rebuilding rich, white neighborhood, we drove to the Ninth Ward, one of the poorest areas of our NATION let alone New Orleans. We saw the infamous house-on-top-of-a-truck. We saw a tree growing inside a car. We saw a lone tricycle in the front yard. I cannot explain to you in words what it felt like to be there, or even what it truly looked like. It looked kinda like a movie set, which Caldwell and I made a joke about which I'm sick to my stomach thinking about still. Surreal is only part of it. It's the most surreal place I've ever been, yet at the same time, it's more real than anything I've ever seen.
The Ninth Ward will not be reconstructed. It will be bulldozed. Acres and Acres of neighborhood, gone forever. Turned into a greenspace, a park across the river from the real neighborhoods, the ones worth rebuilding, the white neighborhood, the rich neighborhood.
The Ninth Ward is where we met Roosevelt. Roosevelt came riding up on his bike and asked one of our girls (who was not by herself, don't worry) if we were a church group and could we pray for him. She got an adult, and the adult found me. I thought that myself and the other adult would put our hands on Roosevelt and move off to the corner and say a prayer. But as we moved about twenty-thirty kids got in a circle around Roosevelt. We joined hands and I said a prayer. The girls were crying, the guys were trying not to and failing. As Roosevelt thanked us and turned to ride off he said, "Now I gotta go find somewhere to sleep tonight."
I need a minute after typing that, and I was there, so take a minute, there's much much more!!
After the Ninth Ward we went down to the still-intact French Quarter, which seemed to me like a dirtier Las Vegas with more culture. I didn't like it. It was 7:30 on a Wednesday night and there were guys stumbling drunk in the streets and girls in bikinis handing out jello shots on the corners. Not for me.
Thursday was another work day, and, I think, the best. Mustoe joined our work team of two groups, so I got hang out with him all day, which was nice. I'd've (that's right, the double contraction, what are you gonna do about it?) liked to work with Caldwell some but we didn't get a chance to, except of course for THE FRIDGE which I'll get to in a second. The owner was there on Thursday. She was Thai with a name like Mena, or Myna. It was pretty but I couldn't pronouce it. She was a widow, not from the flood, who lived alone in the big house. She had driven from Dallas just to be with us as we worked on her house. We only had one day here so we made a plan and got to work. Highlights: cutting my finger and actually feeling like I did something that week, the rats in the kitchen, and , of course, demolishing the bathroom in the garage. There was this built bathroom our in the garage, literally like a Water Closet. Mustoe, Nathan, Galen and myself totally smacked that thing up like Ike Turner (sorry old joke for mustoe). The ax worked the best. We swung at the wooden doors of the closet with all our might, throwing out sholders and tearing down the wood frame. Mustoe had a mis-hit, and immediately went into the Colossus Power-Up from the old X-Men video game. The next time I"m with any of you, ask me to do it for you but it looks like this aaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAARGGH!
And then took off the whole door in his next swing. I tell, if there was a soundtrack to my life, it would've been playing "Damn It Feels Good to be a Gangsta" or "O Fortuna" (that opera music that's played when the ringwraiths are chasing Frodo on that elf chicks horse). It was beautiful. After we were sure that the bathroom was dead, we came out to find Mena, her son-in-law, and Dustin in the backyard looking at us like idiots.
One more story and then the water park and then we're done guys, lower your sholder and power through to the end.
Everything was going smoothly at Mena's house, until we went 'round the corner and saw a giant fridge laying on its back. We tried moving out long ways, side ways and upside down. We took the doors off the house and tried again. Nothing. When Mena said in her thick Thai that she had to take to door off to get the fridge inside, we thought she meant the back door to the house. She didn't. This fridge was not leaving the house with its doors on. Let me set this up a little. This fridge had food inside it, Milk, Mayo, Eggs, that had been through a hurricane, through a flood, and then had sat for ten months in LA heat and humidity. We decided to wait for the end of the day to get the fridge out. So, when everything else was done, and everyone else was in the vans with the air on and plenty of water, Adam Caldwell, Mustoe, Dustin, Jake and I went back inside to get the fridge. We came up with a plan and executed. Dustin pulled the doors off, we tipped it over on it's side and Jake and a kid named Tyce hoed out all the rotten, disgusting food onto a tarp. When they started hoeing, and got all that riled up and moving again, it wasn't overwhelming, it was worse. Every few breaths you'd get a mouthful of the most fowl smelling, putrid thing in the whole world. Then you'd have some ok breaths, and that fowl monster would come back. Truly gut-wrenching. We pushed the doorless beast out the back door and to the curb. Got in the trucks and drove away.
The next day I thought I was going to hell about every three seconds. We went to the Blue Bayou Water Park and all of Mustoe and my girls put on their swimsuits. My girls were prepared with t-shirts and tank tops to where over them but when I saw that Mustoe's group had not apparently heard him when we said no two-pieces (something "He just wouldn't think of") I told my girls they could do as they pleased. And so, for the next 6 hours I thought I was going straight to hell about every three seconds.
The water park, exept of the hell part, was awesome. Adam, Mustoe, Jake and I, weighed so much that we got the most air on this one ride that the lifegaurd had ever seen. And then, the most amazing three hours of my life ensued. Mustoe, rented tubes, Lazy River, Three and a Half hours. That's right, Mustoe and I spent three and a half hours after lunch innertubing round and round the lazy river. It was glorious. Different groups of kids and adults would come to see us (I'd feel like going to hell some more). We talked about stuff, and nothing. We talked and not talked, we not-talked for hours. It was awesome.
Alright, everybody, the longest blog entry in the world is finally complete. If you have a chance to go on a trip to New Orleans, go right away. It was unbelievable but I'm glad to be home.
"You must be the change you seek" -Ghandi
Too summerize this whole entry in Cajun:
Salutation
Transportation
Introductions
Communication
Deconstruction
Devastation
Repulsion
Completion
Anticipation
Damnation
Exhaustion
I'm outie 5,000, take it sleazy,
B
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