Rita's Leaving...

...but I fear for the Gulf Coast.

My hunch paid off. Every business on Ocean Drive had panicked and closed; I kept open with a skeletal staff and we were packed with Hurricane Party enthusiasts. We blasted the music, encouraged dancing and bad behavior, and made it as fun as possible although we did have a difficult time opening the door because of the wind. The Gang of Twelve--those very boys who come every weekend to The Palace and grace my occasional pool party--arrived in mid-afternoon and took over the south bar. They had given shelter to poor Jesse who wasn't able to do the Beyonce dance after his night.

Let's hope this is the last Hurricane Party.