The air-conditioning went out in my house last night. Those of you who currently live in New Orleans, Chennai, Singapore or such know exactly what this entails, and I don’t have to explain the stifling frustration. Even I, who doesn’t break a sweat walking in the noonday sun of New Orleans, cannot sleep a wink in the oppressive 95° of an uncooled interior. On fiddling with the mechanical unit and realizing that the vent works just fine, the discovery came that the fan is broken.
No fear – the AC man will be here today and I am hopeful that it’s a mere blown fuse or small moving part. “Yeah, a small $700 moving part known as the fan,” a voice in the back of my head retorts.
So, imagine the night of last August 29th and the plight of those who didn’t leave the city and sought refuge in their sweltering attics or, even worse, on their hot tin, asphalt or slate roofs. Truthfully, it was a lot cooler outside, but the thought of sleeping on the gallery (and 7000 mosquitos and a roach or two getting fresh with me) wasn’t appealing.
There is no good time for a hurricane to strike, neglected levees to break, a city to flood and power to go out. But, the end of August has got to be the worst.
Update: The culprit was not one, but two, blown fuses. Woohoo for cheap fixes and cold air!
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Pictures of last afternoon’s CBD secondline to the Superdome (thank goodness, no W)
Surprised the Saints didn’t tackle him (but then, Brooks now asserts he isn’t a New Orleanian)
Yesterday’s Sepia Mutiny guest post: Has It Been A Year Already?, which highlights the struggles of the Quarter’s t-shirt and souvenir merchants.
