A Tale of Two Cities

When I was at the University of Texas Graduate School of Journalism, more than a few people told me I would never find a solid journalism job in Austin.

People have always said the New Orleans Saints would go to the Super Bowl when “Hell freezes over.” 

Hell hath frozen over for the Saints, and perhaps for me, too. I’m excited to join the Austin Post team as the new editor. A sign in front of Our Lady of Fatima Catholic Church in Lafayette, LA says, “They must be wearing coats in Hell. Go Saints.”

For me, the two surprises are as intertwined as the cities of Austin and New Orleans. 

Hurricane Katrina hit a few days before my senior year at Tulane University. I had just moved into a new apartment when I had to evacuate. I spent that semester with my family and attended the University of Texas at Arlington. When my endearingly overprotective dad said he still wanted me to wait an extra semester to return to New Orleans – I think he was on a cable news kick that year – I packed my stuff and drove the three hours down I-35 to Austin.

After eight months as a cocktail server at the Iron Cactus, I had made some incredible friends and fallen for the quirks and charms of Austin. I returned to New Orleans for what I dubbed, “Karie’s Senior Year: The Sequel,” but the Continental Club, Laguna Gloria and perfect Mexican martinis waited patiently in the back of my mind. 

I reveled once again in the breathtaking architecture, the unparalleled seafood, the heart-pumping nights dancing to the Soul Rebels, the jogs around Audubon Park and of course, Mardi Gras. But in a year, I was back in Austin for a master’s at UT. 

I’ve been here almost three years now and still visit New Orleans a few times a year. Both cities inspire me in different ways. Both will always feel like home. In both I have loved and lost, in both I’ve watched friends get married, in both I’ve heard beautiful music and danced until I collapsed. 

About half the people who have been to New Orleans will tell you they hate it. The other half hold it dear to their hearts. For all the complaints about traffic and high-rises, it’s tough to find too many people who despise Austin. We’ve all told someone we lived here and gotten the response, “Oh, I love Austin!”

I look at the two cities as brothers. New Orleans is the older one – rough around the edges, jaded from tragedy but always finding a reason to laugh and never taking himself too seriously. He rarely shaves, he might drink beer for breakfast, doesn’t eat too healthy and his exercise comes mainly from dancing and sweating to the brass bands. He’s tough and wise and loyal. The younger has boyish charm. He drinks wheatgrass for breakfast, runs marathons and drives a hybrid. He’s motivated and altruistic. 

I have plenty of room in my heart for both. This weekend, when I drive to New Orleans to watch Austinite Drew Brees lead the Saints to the Super Bowl, I’ll be happy to know I have Austin waiting for me at home.