Humid City
Humid City, if you haven’t been here before you do not completely get it. I have often tried to explain to people why I picked that name and now I have found a great description:
New Orleans Travel Story: “Once you step off the plane in New Orleans, you know you’re in New Orleans. The humidity hits you like a wall. A wall of humidity … okay, that’s not descriptive enough. Imagine running out of your house after having the air conditioner on high for a few hours. Then you run outside, but it’s the hottest day you’ve seen, and somebody’s following you around with steaming iron, blowing the steam on you Then, when you ask somebody what’s going on they say, this is completely normal.”
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My favorite quote about New Orleans by a non-native:
The minute you land in New Orleans, something wet and dark leaps on you and starts humping you like a swamp dog in heat, and the only way to get that aspect of New Orleans off you is to eat it off. That means beignets and crawfish bisque and jambalaya, it means shrimp remoulade, pecan pie, and red beans ‘n rice, it means elegant pompano en papillote, funky filé z’herbes, and raw oysters by the dozen, it means grillades for breakfast, a po-boy with chow-chow at bedtime, and tubs of gumbo in between. It is not unusual for a visitor to the city to gain fifteen pounds in a week – yet the alternative is a whole lot worse. If you don’t eat day and night, if you don’t constantly funnel the indigenous flavors into your bloodstream, then the mystery beast will keep on humping you, and you will feel its sordid presence rubbing against you long after you have left town. In fact, like any sex offender, it can leave permanent psychological scars.
— Tom Robbins, from Jitterbug Perfume