Out of all the things to do in New Orleans the tourism industry suggests you sit on an orange couch to celebrate the 25 years of Friends…

For whatever reason New Orleans is celebrating the ”25 years of Friends” yes the TV show. Why? I do not have a clue, but I’m wondering if there was a typo during the planning stage. So instead of sending the orange plastic couch to Central Park in New York, it was sent to Washington Artillery Park in New Orleans? Or maybe the New Orleans Tourism Events Planner is a New York native and loves Friends? That’s the best I could come up with because this is not the making of a New Orleans native

As with all things New Orleans Tourism the people of New Orleans are forgotten. Let’s pretend that there was good reason a for New Orleans to roll out the red carpet to honor the 25th year of Friends such a donation or prize by Friends cast and crew to tourism employees or to get people from under the bridge then yes chile let’s sit on the plastic orange couch on a humid Nola day til our thighs stick to the seats! I would have suggested that the New Orleans Tourism honor the tourism industry workers. If I were on the ”25 years of Friends” planning committee I would have created events entitled “Friends in the Hospitality Industry or Friends on the Porch” but if we had to include the tourist I would have had a street crew asking tourist to name a friendly interaction with a local or something along those lines. There are so many wonderful ways to honor the people of New Orleans especially in the area of Friendship.

Time and time again I state without the people of New Orleans, the natives, the cultural ambassadors there can not be a New Orleans and once again the tourism industry makes a mockery of us and all that our culture means to us. This is not for the people, but what is. The only people who will pose on the couch will be a tourist. I hope they have their wet naps to wipe the area off before sitting. Like didn’t we learn from sticky, sweaty butts from the days of plastic covered sofas? I suggest y’all continue to sit or stand on the Jackson Square steps New Orleans photo ops, plus the NOLA 300 sign is iconic of New Orleans, not an orange couch. Look at how nice my pictures are of me and my Friends.

What a waste of money and time on this event. The tourism agency continues to commercialize and profit from the culture. Welcome to New Orleans for the 25 years of Friends and say Good Bye to New Orleans while you’re here…

Read more about what the people of New Orleans have to think on The Advocate: https://www.theadvocate.com/gambit/new_orleans/news/the_latest/article_f48ac92c-db0f-11e9-b704-bf5d80618f8a.html

But just in case you want to go feel free to it out here are the details:


  • DATE 09/19/2019 – 09/22/2019
  • RECURRENCE Recurring daily
  • LOCATION Washington Artillery Park
  • PRICE Free

Source: https://www.neworleans.com/event/friends-25th-anniversary-celebration/37269/

Source: https://riverbeats.life/neworleans/celebrating-a-friends-couch-in-new-orleans-doesnt-mean-were-selling-ourselves-out-opinion/

A native of New Orleans, who left her beloved New Orleans to spend twenty years of living in the land of Minnesota Not So Nice. Minnesota was full of opportunities but would learn that the soul of the state and the people who made it was just as icy cold as the temperatures. After the years and my 40th birthday flew by, I decided it was time to pack up my youngest child and come back to my roots, my birthplace the city that not only birthed me but gave me life. I would not be who I am without my New Orleans beginnings. I am all things that would challenge the belief of growing up in New Orleans. I was a 16yr old teen mother of a premature baby born with a severe medical disability. And only With the help of my mother, was it possible for me to BE! I was able to endure and survive the obstacles laid before my child and me. In a city that was built by my family, but did not allow for us to reap the benefits I overcame. Charity Hospital was my second home — a building filled with miracle workers who made it possible for my daughter to have life. I have lived a life of rainy days with peeks of sunshine, that are my children, including those not of my womb. I'm the proud mother of three and a grandmother of three. My dream was to live the life of the nursery rhyme of ”The Old Lady Who lived in a shoe,” and for the most part, I did. I cared for several children over the years as a special needs foster parent. I would learn that my love was not enough for some children, but I loved them through their pain. I'm not sure if I ever had a case of true love or came close to what love looks like on television, but I had my share of men and the mirage of love. I survived two abusive marriages. Though I longed to return to New Orleans on a daily bases, I must admit my move was one of the best decisions made for me. I am a college graduate; I was a successful entrepreneur. I coowned a soul food restaurant and catering company in Minnesota for 12 years. I developed the talent of creating custom cakes after the murder of my beloved cousin Melvin Paul. He survived Katrina only to go to Minneapolis six months later to be murdered over a parking spot dispute. But with the challenge of creating a simple wedding cake, I was able to find healing. I created the House of Cakes in honor of him. Minnesota life had me pretty materialistic. I worked to the point I do not remember much, but work and handing my children love money. I thought by having the big house on the hill, a husband, having a family, the ultimate provider and being involved in all things that matter, plus having the funds to match would cure me of what I was told was a generational curse of lack of everything from money, love to even self-love. But for the most part, that life poisoned my heart and soul. I was blinded by visions fed to me by the media. I was told I wasn't anything unless I was better than the Jones's. I lived being ok with a broken, bleeding heart. Life like this did not exist in my family while living in New Orleans from what I viewed with my eyes and soul. We may not have had all the things I acquired over the years, but we were happy, we were together. Family outside of New Orleans wasn't family anymore. We lived separate lives and had awkward moments when we bumped into each other in public. I hated living in Minnesota even though life their helped me in so many ways. I felt deep down the only way to repair it was to get back to my roots, my soul, my home, myself, my New Orleans. I'm here, and I love it. Even being in the so-called Blighted Area of New Orleans and not having all the financial and material security, I'm happy. I am determined that She, yes, New Orleans is a woman is just like me; together, we will overcome and will rise from all that tried to kill our spirit. Nothing like starting from the bottom and making your way back up!. I just know in my heart that New Orleans will provide for me. There's a bank account with funds in it owed to me by way of back pay for my ancestors. And I will receive my inheritance, and I will continue the traditions and customs of the old to keep the heartbeat of New Orleans beating. I'm down in the boot, living the life that feels right to me awaiting my destiny...

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