Maybe I'm Not Crazy

There a lot of things that one puts up with while living in New Orleans. I never expect cashiers to be friendly or even look me in the eye. I have learned that service is slow unless I am in the right restaurant and then service is just expensive. I have heard mothers berate their children in my presence on more occasions than I care to recall.

A lot of this has changed after the storm. Things are quieter. So when a car sat outside our house the other day with the stereo loud enough to shake the windows, it took all that I had not to go out and tell them that they had to stop; that I wouldn't tolerate it anymore. Apparently, I'm not alone in my feelings that things cannot return to just how they were. My attention was drawn to this article.

God help the next person who uses what we affectionately refer to as the "ghetto doorbell."