The people you meet
Sorry for not writing in a while. I have not been feeling articulate lately.
I want to write about two people I met recently. The first was a lady, Ann, I met walking one night with a colleague. We were on the street behind her and she heard our footsteps and turned around. “Oh, good, it’s you,” she said, slightly inebriated.
“Why is it good that it is me?” I asked.
“Because when you hear footsteps, you never know who it is. I get worried,” she explained.
“How do you know you should not be scared of me,” I asked.
Because there are two of, she explained. Criminals work alone.
So we talked with her as we walked. She is vintage New Orleans. She loves the city and would not live any where else. But, she is afraid to walk home at night.
I offered to walk her to her door, which she accepted, and then invited me and my colleague in to the courtyard of her apartment complex. I have to say I was a little weirded out by it, but we accepted. It was a great space with nice old trees and a beautiful pool. We talked for a little longer and then left. Who knows what would have happened if my colleague was not there.
The other lady I met was equally archetypal, this time of the developers that hang out in the shadows in Jefferson Davis County, waiting for opportunities to swoop in. Another good example of the type is the alien from Hollywood that I wrote about some months ago, who had a dog named Chica Bonita. She has long since dropped the ruse that she is working for a nonprofit and now admits she is a developer, looking to sell houses.
In any case, this new lady was dressed not unlike a prostitute, long heels, tons of make up, plunging next line. More suspicious than that, she identified herself as a consultant. I asked who her clients were and she avoided the questions. (A resident who is on the Citizens Recovery Committee had mentioned that she often does jobs like arranging permits that developers need).
The resident introduced her saying she wanted to help with some of the recovery projects we are trying to get started. I had agreed to talk to her because I thought she was going to volunteer. She spent the entire 20 minutes of our conversation pumping me and a colleague for information. (It would have lasted longer, but I exited as soon as I gracefully could.) Pumping us for information would make sense if we had any insider information, but we know nothing besides what we read in the paper so we had nothing to offer.
Still, she did not seem to know the basics of any land use issues. For instance, you need flood insurance to get a mortgage in a flood plain, and the only place to get flood insurance is the Federal Government. How could she be a consultant for developers and not know that? In any case, she told us she is flying off to see the number two person at HUD in Washington, DC tomorrow. The real question is if she knows who that person is or what HUD stands for.
I want to write about two people I met recently. The first was a lady, Ann, I met walking one night with a colleague. We were on the street behind her and she heard our footsteps and turned around. “Oh, good, it’s you,” she said, slightly inebriated.
“Why is it good that it is me?” I asked.
“Because when you hear footsteps, you never know who it is. I get worried,” she explained.
“How do you know you should not be scared of me,” I asked.
Because there are two of, she explained. Criminals work alone.
So we talked with her as we walked. She is vintage New Orleans. She loves the city and would not live any where else. But, she is afraid to walk home at night.
I offered to walk her to her door, which she accepted, and then invited me and my colleague in to the courtyard of her apartment complex. I have to say I was a little weirded out by it, but we accepted. It was a great space with nice old trees and a beautiful pool. We talked for a little longer and then left. Who knows what would have happened if my colleague was not there.
The other lady I met was equally archetypal, this time of the developers that hang out in the shadows in Jefferson Davis County, waiting for opportunities to swoop in. Another good example of the type is the alien from Hollywood that I wrote about some months ago, who had a dog named Chica Bonita. She has long since dropped the ruse that she is working for a nonprofit and now admits she is a developer, looking to sell houses.
In any case, this new lady was dressed not unlike a prostitute, long heels, tons of make up, plunging next line. More suspicious than that, she identified herself as a consultant. I asked who her clients were and she avoided the questions. (A resident who is on the Citizens Recovery Committee had mentioned that she often does jobs like arranging permits that developers need).
The resident introduced her saying she wanted to help with some of the recovery projects we are trying to get started. I had agreed to talk to her because I thought she was going to volunteer. She spent the entire 20 minutes of our conversation pumping me and a colleague for information. (It would have lasted longer, but I exited as soon as I gracefully could.) Pumping us for information would make sense if we had any insider information, but we know nothing besides what we read in the paper so we had nothing to offer.
Still, she did not seem to know the basics of any land use issues. For instance, you need flood insurance to get a mortgage in a flood plain, and the only place to get flood insurance is the Federal Government. How could she be a consultant for developers and not know that? In any case, she told us she is flying off to see the number two person at HUD in Washington, DC tomorrow. The real question is if she knows who that person is or what HUD stands for.
posted by JNA | 6:33 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home