A New Orleans Locals' Lens. Super Bowl 59

It is a muggy winter night in New Orleans, Louisiana. Panning from the view of the ferry dock in Algiers, the city sparkles like a crown sitting above the ever-changing and unpredictable current of the mighty Mississippi River. Sparkling with lights and intrigue, the atmosphere is polarizing depending on one's length of residency and experiences in The Crescent City. 

As a lifelong resident, I rarely participate in evening and night events anymore. Maintaining five full-time jobs (the one currently paying the bills as a verbally and physically abused labor blue-collar employee) my time needs to be delegated with purpose. With all of the videos and photos that were plastered down my social media timelines, I needed to go outside, test the atmosphere, and get a few interviews done. 

While waiting to board the Algiers to Canal St. ferry, there was a long line filled with a plethora of black and gold gear, along with a few green and silver shirts mixed in. A group of locals standing in front of me were locked in an engaging conversation with an Eagles fan. Eavesdropping, I learned he was from Philadelphia and found himself staying in an Air BnB in Algiers. He pointed and crooned, “I guess I’ll just watch the game at the Crown and Anchor Pub right here down the street.”

The RTA pulled out all of the stops operating on an event schedule, running two ferries at once to keep up with the volume of people. There was a diverse group of people waiting to board, hoping to either get a glimpse of their favorite celebrity, gawk at the light show projected onto the St. Louis Cathedral, or just take advantage of the enforced security and be a tourist in their own city. 

Boarding, the security was seen and felt. The enforced security was polarizing to me, personally. 

There were military police, local police, and the Coast Guard in any vicinity that you could breathe.

Did I feel safe? Yes.

Did it remind me of my jarring experience during Hurricane Katrina as a teenager?

Absolutely. 

After a brief and choppy ride across the river, de-boarding the vessel, I noticed that the line to get back to Algiers was stretched to Canal Place.

It was at that moment that I realized that I may have made a terrible impulsive decision in coming out.

As long as that line may have been, it was to be expected. The Super Bowl is a major event and traffic was restricted. 

Heading left, I began to stroll the riverfront in hopes of finding some friends. As I meandered down the moonwalk, I noticed that one of the multi-million dollar yachts was docked to my right.

It was ok. I saw a nicer one on the HBO hit show Succession.

So intrigued with my newly re-discovered Sony Handicam, I almost walked past my compadres. Together we walked down Canal Street to scope out possible interviewees. 

Upon getting an unbeknownst amount of dirty looks, rude comments, and flirty smiles, I stumbled across a few willing participants. Mentally sorting out and assessing the crowd, I noticed stark differences in fan bases between the two competing teams. Chiefs fans were more reserved and demure in their behavior, while Eagles fans are essentially northern New Orleanians in terms of crazy. 

Finishing up with Canal Street, we made a right onto Burgundy St., then a second right onto Iberville. While on Iberville, we noticed an access of security circling one petite figure wearing tan beige shorts. I believe it was Ms. Cardi B. I did not care because as I inched closer to the infamous Bourbon Street, the security was seen and felt. The enforced security was polarizing to me, personally. 

There were military police, local police, and private security in any vicinity that you could breathe. 

Did I feel safe? Yes.

Did it remind me of my jarring experience during Hurricane Katrina as a teenager?

Absolutely.

The amount of people piled onto the world-famous street was enough to send my anxiety through the roof. The sheer number of military police and bright lights was enough to send my blood pressure to the moon. I immediately reneged and decided to walk straight across Bourbon down Iberville to the historic St. Louis cathedral to see the projections.

On our way to the light show, I came to another glaring conclusion. Amongst the crowd outside, we ran into some interesting characters. Interesting Indigenous New Orleanians, many being YouTubers and content creators. I noticed that New Orleans is not only hospitable, but almost everyone is a star in their own right. However, that right may be. 

Passing artists and palm readers, the aesthetic projections were partially visible over the greenery and wroth-iron fence containing Jackson Square. Local artists (such as Becky Fos, James Michalopoulos, Terrance Osborne, George Rodrigue, and Hunt Slonem) were projected onto the three side-by-side historical landmarks. 

Being up close and personal to the project was really cool, but not as fulfilling as getting a higher perspective of the entire building. Moving on down St. Ann Street, the group decided to take an ice cream break while I took a film break to air out my grievances. 

Ascending the ramp to the plateau at Washington Artillery Park, I took in the view, sounds, smells, and excitement in the air, and still crashed out. I was exhausted after working unrequested eleven-hour shifts at my blue-collar day job that pays my bills. 

Standing on top of New Orleans, viewing one of the most culturally beautiful, diverse, and spiritual cities in the world, I made a promise to myself and my city. Regardless of how hard haymakers are thrown at me, how many creative ideas and innovations made by me are ripped off by those who do this media thing full-time. I will NEVER stop creating the art in my mind that is a byproduct of this unique town.

It is a muggy winter night in New Orleans, Louisiana. Panning from the view of The Washington Artillery Park, the city shimmers like a rare jewel tucked away in a distant era in time. Despite the ever-changing and unpredictable current of life, just like the mighty Mississippi River it will forever flow and be present. So will I. 

New Orleans Today,      

          New Orleans Tomorrow,

New Orleans Forever,

L.J Taylor