After years of speaking at the Coalition to Restore Coastal Louisiana meetings, the Governor’s office finally wrote Jon a letter, thanking him for his ideas and that yes, he was likely right all along. The letter detailed specific policy concepts, and when I read it, I felt like there was a sense of hopelessness. You’re right, it suggested, but politics is more complicated than that.
In the evening, Jon parks his skiff next to the grocery in Gibson and we share a boudin – rice, pork and spices encased in a pig’s intestine. Jean, the owner of the grocery, offers me a piece of dark meat, and then gives Jon a spry look I wasn’t meant to see. “If it’s alligator, that’s no big deal,” I say, trying to size up the meat. Jean smiles and Jon tries to keep from doing the same.
I ask Jon if he’s ever eaten nutria. He says all the time, it’s delicious. He explains that Cajun chef Paul Prudhomme almost lost his reputation by adding Nutria to his menu, but that in reality its great meat, and people shouldn't be afraid of it just because its a giant water rat. I say, “Even if this is nutria, I’ll eat it.” I thought that would be the best way to fool their cruel joke.
And then I eat it, and Jean says, “You just ate roast beef!”
Fast forward a day and the bar to go in Morgan City is at The Holiday Inn. You may find that funny, but Morgan City, northwest of Gibson, is a so-called Anglo town. When I ask for a recommendation on a restaurant in Morgan City, a young lady says, "Well, there's four Chinese Restaurants and ten fast food restaurants, and then there's here. You choose your pick." That's Morgan City, because Morgan City isn't Cajun.
So I opt for a couple Powerbars and some Jamaican rum at the bar. Here I meet Rubin, whose bar buddy just announced to everybody that 'they're remaking the Dukes of Hazzard. No shit, yeah?'
Rubin is dressed like a businessman, with a yellow polo shirt and khakis. He's bored by what's on the bar television (a show called the O.C., which the bartender says she 'lives for'). So I ask Rubin about what he does. "I run a freight and transport company. I've got boats running here and in other states too. I run a service that takes employees and freight out to the oil rigs."
"Morgan City is pretty much the capital of the oil industry, and the shrimper industry too," he says. "With access to the bayous, the intercoastal waterway and the gulf itself, it's kinda a hub for Louisiana’s big industries."
"What do you make of this talk about the bayous sinking?" I ask him.
"Hah. Its not talk. Every month, I can tell the difference. I make the trip to the rigs a couple times a month myself," Rubin says. "Look, there is not a shrimper or a boater in South Louisiana who will tell you we're not losing our land. And it's going fast!"
Rubin is intelligent, reasonable headed, and well-dressed in the way you would expect a banker to be well-dressed. So I ask, "if what you're saying is true, why doesn't Louisiana just fix it?" And then I add, "Like if the al Qaedas were trying to take over Louisiana's bayous, we'd be all over that. What's the difference?"
The bartender is dressed in a red shirt with some words on it. She puts pickled carrots and spiced green beans on our bar napkins and says "Tas' em, dare good." And Rubin crunches, "Well you see, this is Cajun Country, and the thing is most of these people can't read or write. And English is a second language to a lot of them, you have to remember. They know they have a problem but they don't have the means to organize themselves."
Rubin's friend says that he heard Jessica Simpson is going to play Daisy Duke. The bartender says who's Daisy Duke and I ask Rubin if he knows where I can rent a pirogue or a canoe around here?
Rubin says, "Why not mine?"
"Like twenty bucks or something?"
"Nah, just come by tomorrow. You have a phone? Call me for directions in the morning."
