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Why I asked myself, had I booked a 6:30 AM flight back to Atlanta. My head was not yet pounding but I knew that the hangover was not far behind. There just wasn't enough separation yet between me and the whiskey. My gaze fell upon the cobblestone streets that led away from Cafe du Monde, as I sat in front of my coffee and beignet and began to process the events of the night before.
I had met Danny the afternoon before, not even 18 hours ago. Danny was to be my client contact and I was very eager to meet him and see whether we "clicked". Did we ever. After conducting the days business I asked Danny if he was available to join me for dinner that evening. He assumed that we would be socializing a bit and therefore our dinner plans were set. We were joined by several of Danny's associates and we dined at one of the many wonderful restaurants in New Orleans. By the time the second bottle of wine was half way down, I recalled thinking that Danny and I would be life-long buddies.
Danny was born in the outskirts of New Orleans and had lived there all his life. The farthest away he had lived was Baton Rouge. He was a native and over the following years he would show me places that only a native would know of. Like the River Shack, an old dusty bar where the food was hot and the beer was cold. Nothing extraordinary except that it was one of the place where you could see the soul of the city.
At dinner that previous night I met a true native of the city. I remember how easy he talked and how casual his demeanor was. It was the same feeling I had experienced in small amounts several times before in New Orleans, but Danny and I had connected on a more basic level. When our third bottle of wine was emptied Danny indicated it was time to go. I thanked him for a great evening as I expected to head back to my hotel. Danny laughed. He pulled me by the arm (he is 6'5") and indicated that the evening had just begun.
Danny proceeded to show me his favorite places in the Quarter and we sang and drank for hours. Our last spot was an after hours place called The Dungeon, where we smoked our last cigarettes and downed our last shots of whiskey. As I reflected upon the fact that my return flight was in just a couple of hours, Danny offered me a ride to the airport. I thanked him but told him I would take a taxi.
I found my way to Cafe du Monde just to get some food and coffee into my system. As I sat there I reflected upon having mat a great friend, and I thought about the charm of New Orleans. The city has a huge economic underclass. There is rampant poverty. But the people there, almost every single person with whom I came in contact, were warm and funny. I only realized that after meeting Danny. As the sounds of a city awakening to another workday started to fill the air I stared down one of the streets in view. Three or four story apartment buildings, cobblestone streets and aromas that could fool anyone into believing he was in a European city. I felt the same as I did when I lived in Paris.
That morning I fell in love with this lady, New Orleans. I don't know if she will ever be the same, but I will always love her and her people.
My closest connection to New Orleans is that my best friend Danny grew up there. I met Danny when he came to work for a company that was my client. I had the pleasure of visiting this great city many times over the years. Danny lives with his wife and two kids in Sydney now. I spoke to him the night before Katrina arrived and he was hopeful.
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