Yikes, it can really rain here

I am huddling in my apartment, feeling like I’m on the set of “Jurassic Park” with torrents of rain crashing down outside. It doesn’t rain cats and dogs, it's more like a stampede of rhinoceroses. It used to seem more fun when I was in college with a vague schedule and wore only the barest clothes and Dr. Scholl’s sandals.

I’m keeping an eye on my car parked beside the curb and the water rising around its wheels, hoping it doesn’t come up too far. Living near the levee, I am supposed to have some level of protection from sudden flooding, but when it rains this hard, the sewers can’t keep up.

Twice last year, I got stuck trying to drive home in a rainstorm and had to tough it out in a bar, abandoning my car parked on relatively high ground. The atmosphere at the bar was festive.

There’s a Saints Victory Parade scheduled for 5 p.m., starting with a concert in Jackson Square. I have no doubt it will go on, no matter what. Rain never deterred a true New Orleanian. That’s why we all own calf-high vinyl boots, preferably striped, polka dot or other fun design to demonstrate the party must go on. They’re essential gear for Jazz Fest. After you’ve paid your $50, you are not going home just because the Fair Grounds have turned to a mud slick.

I’m still deciding if I’ll go downtown. But the last Saints parade was supposed to have lasted two hours and went on for four, so there is absolutely no hurry. Everyone in town will be there and traffic will be gridlocked. The sane way to go is by streetcar or Tchoupitoulas bus. Only the aged and infirm will watch from the comfort of their own homes.