My life as Trick
The Big Easy and why I hate it. - Part Two.
So I headed off to New Orleans.
And I lived happily ever after. The end.
Ummm. Yeah. Do you really think that there would be
a "Part Two" if that was it?
So I headed off to New Orleans... no place to live, no job,
a LITTLE money, my truck, and the clothes on my back.
Sounds like a plan.
I never said it was a good one. I piddled what money I had
on food and junk, and slept in my truck while looking
around for a job. After a while, the clothes were too
dirty for an interview, and it's not like I had an address
or phone number where I could be reached.
I fell in with a group of people who had also come to New
Orleans looking for a new start and wound up living on the
streets of the French Quarter while eeking out an
existence. We slept in the park at night and begged for
change or cigarettes during the day.
We went to the A&P and bought bread and meat, and
shoplifted cheese and mustard in order to make something
that we could live off of.
We were supposed to share everything that we had, but I
kept a bit back every day, and never mentioned that I had a
truck. I would walk off and put change in my glove box
until, after a couple of weeks, I had enough money to buy a
full tank of gas.
And one night I left my crew and I took my dirty, broke-
down, hungry ass home.
And got back into school.
And lived on campus.
And got 3 part-time jobs.
And put the idea of my father, Elliot, and New Orleans in
the back of my head and decided that what was really
important was making myself mentally, emotionally, and
financially stable enough to where nothing like this would
ever happen again.
2 out of 3 ain't bad. It's up to you to determine which
I was planning on talking more about this, especially now
that I've come so far. I've gone from having nothing to
having more than I ever dreamed. But this just doesn't
bring up pleasant memories. And now I really just want to
write it down and move on.