Man, am I sorry for New Orleans. I recall being a bit catty when all the storms were hitting Florida...but thinking of Nawlins as a big bowl surrounded by inept levies and remembering good times there and knowing all-too-well the destruction of a big hurricane, well, yikes.

My trip to New Orleans, long ago, can be summed up in one word: feces. It was the running theme of our trip. We took the trip in my husband's mother's Miata, then a novelty. The car was so much fun to tool around the parishes in, and so painful to ride in for eight hours on the Interstate. I had bugs in my hair and painful rear end situations following.

The feces was all around - in the streets, on the telly (they showed shots of feces during a local report on bad housing conditions...ewww), in our hotel room, etc. To dull the stench and the thought of feces, I decided to partake in a hurricane or two (too aptly named). After that night, the running theme of our trip became vomit.

On that trip we also connected with a college friend who had been kicked out for various drinking infractions. A N.O. native, she had come back home to marry a Russian acrobat and have a baby named Emmanuella. She was headed to Israel to see the birthplace of Christianity. My husband dropped Emmanuella on one of the ubiquitous iron-grate tables at our hotel, but my friend didn't mind, for she knew if my hubby had in fact KILLED the baby, her baby would be safe in Jesus' arms.

After that visit we headed out to a topless bar. The details of that outing shan't be shared here, but I can reveal that we have never returned to such a place.

After that, we went to a voodoo shop, whereupon entering I was greeted with a scream by a lady in a big turban and lots of jewelry. "WHOA PISCES!" she bellowed, "Your power is blowing me AWAY!" I was flattered. And scared. Because I am a Pisces.

So good old New Orleans, now is your hour of need. I'm hoping and praying for the best, and the best could be pretty crappy. Good luck and godspeed.