Heard on NPR this morning about a bar on New Orleans' infamous Bourbon Street that has remained open through the entire hurricane and what followed, even though there's no water, electricity, or, well, plumbing to speak of.
Apparently, the place has been filled with locals trying to "cope" with the aftermath of Katrina.
Gotta love drunks, man--they don't let a little human catastrophe get in the way of a good excuse to get shitfaced. And really, who can blame them? Not me--there was a time when I found a barstool the best refuge from every storm, though most of mine were self-inflicted.
There used to be a "joke" going around that after the end of the world, all that will be left are roaches and Cher. I'd like to humbly suggest that we add alcoholics to the list.
Active ones, any way.
Me, I'd hope to be swept up in the whirlwind, thank you very much. No survivor skills here, no siree, no ma'am.
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