I am easily bemused but I am not easily amused. I have seen too much. The only sight that makes me smile is a sleeping baby. We are all God’s children. Children are the future.
New Orleans is going to Hell in a hand basket, of course. The mayor is at a climate conference in Dubai for a week. Our tax dollars at work. She has a year or so left in office. Good riddance to bad rubbish.
Maybe Sidney Torres IV will run for mayor. Say what you want, but, the man does know the trash removal business. Sidney Torres IV dreams trashy dreams.
IV Waste trucks are always clean and his trash men are always crisp in their uniforms. The trash men dart like plovers on and off the truck and they always treat the cans with gentle hands. They are whisper-quiet in the wee, small hours of the morning.
I know this because IV Waste handles trash removal duties in the 7th Ward, across the street from my address. Our side of the street, in the notorious 6th Ward, is handled by Richards’ Disposal.
Every truck owned by Richards’ Disposal needs a new muffler. They are dented, rusty, peeling paint, a blemish on the waste removal profession. I have it on good authority that most of Richards’ Disposal’s trash men are getting a fresh start after paying a debt to society. I guess they don’t teach parolees how to put all the trash inside the truck, or, to not throw the cans willy-nilly while honest citizens are trying to sleep.
IV Waste is first class. Richard’s Disposal is third tier. Metro Disposal is somewhere in the middle. These are the three trash companies in New Orleans. The city contracts with them to pick up trash. I suppose it is better than having the city do it for itself.
Where is NOPSI when you need it?
Leather and I drove past the NOPSI Hotel on our horological Vespa adventure. I told her she should visit the lobby. It is full of NOPSI memorabilia since it was the NOPSI headquarters. People would go there to pay their electric bill. Those were the days.
I would much rather go to the NOPSI Building than to the Entergy building on the uptown, lakeside corner of Canal Street and Norman C. Francis (née Jefferson Davis) Boulevard.
I told Leather that she should visit the lobby of the NOPSI Hotel. We rounded the building and I showed her where they used to work on heavy machinery. The workshop is now a ballroom.
For an instant, the notion to go inside the NOPSI Hotel quickened in my heart. Then, it disappeared. I had other things to do. I had to escort Leather home. Man, that was a wild ride.
Now, I am going to change the subject from my stream of consciousness and tell you what happened. I am going to tell you what it is like to talk to an Orleanian.