Posted 9/07/2005 05:51:00 PM by Douglas

In New Orleans, the storm affected everyone and everything. But this story is a long time in coming: Won't somebody please think of the junkies?!

Heroin, cocaine and crack are no longer on the menu on Bourbon Street, and junkies strung out since Hurricane Katrina devastated New Orleans are feeling the pinch.

On a sidewalk near Johnny White's bar on Bourbon Street, known for its raucous Mardi Gras party, an addict negotiates with a burly, black man dressed like a short-order chef with a stained apron and baseball cap.

Those in the know call him "The Man."

Looking shifty and nervous, the junkie pulls out a spanking new pair of jeans, with the Levi's tags still on them.

"Ask him does he have a 34-inch waist," another dealer who wants in on the trade shouts at "The Man."

Two pairs of jeans, looted from a store after hurricane Katrina hit the city, are handed over and the junkie gets what he needs -- a couple of morphine pills to feed his habit.

A woman drinking whiskey and coke outside Johnny White's said of the drug dealer, "He's probably got $8,000 in his back pocket right now. Business has been brisk here."

Maybe I'm a hard hearted cynic, but I just can't muster up much sympathy for these guys. If the storm, flood, disease, death, and destruction isn't enough to get you off the junk, then nothing is.

"I just want to get to Brooklyn," said Goffredo, who told a reporter he had friends who had offered money to pay for his passage to New York. There, he said, he could register with a Methadone clinic.

I'm pretty sure everyone in Texas can agree with you on this point, Goffredo.