“Oh my god, it smells like shit.” I said as I stepped out of the cab and onto Decatur Street in New Orleans’s historic French Quarter.

I hadn’t been in the city more than an hour and already I was confronted with a horrendous odor. 

It was one so powerful I never thought I’d get used to. It was the kind that brings tears to your eyes and makes you pity other people on the street who are breathing the same foul air.

Surprisingly, after about three minutes in the pungent aroma I adapted.

Good thing too, I was about to spend the next five days in this city with my graduate health and medical journalism class. We’d be covering a major medical convention as well as interviewing health officials as they attempt to rebuild New Orleans broken health care system.

While there, I found how woefully ignorant I was of the situation in one of America’s greatest cities. FEMA trailer parks still litter the landscape; entire fields exist where houses used to sit so close neighbors were more likeroommates and a health care facility sits in an abandoned Wal-Mart parking lot. 

These were not signs of the rebirth I heard New Orleans already went through. To call towers or trash outside gutted houses “piles of progress” as one of our tour guides did was an overstatement. As we continued our tour I was shocked at the stories of how the people felt they had been abandoned by their government.

“How can this be? How was I so out of tune with the situation?”

Because I, like many, got used to the stench.

In the direct aftermath of Hurricanes Katrina and Rita, we were glued to our TVs and computers.

We couldn’t believe what we saw. It even brought tears to our eyes.

But we move on – we get used to the smell of injustice, heartbreak and hurt. In our busy lives and news cycles we forget that we used to live in a world without that particular smell.

We students have particularly short memories. There are thousands of volunteer opportunities in NOLA, and unless they make a Facebook application for it, I honestly doubt many of us will do anything at all.

How do I know this?

Because I am guilty of it too.

I am guilty of being caught up in my own life of school, work and little too much play time.

There’s nothing wrong with being self-involved, but it is a sign of our generation to get totally worked up about something that we can’t help but do absolutely nothing.

We don’t vote (see Presidential or even SGA elections), we don’t generally protest in masse (see the relatively small crowds at the arch every now and again) and we don’t question those in power (see dismal attendance at Open Mic with Mike).

We seem to be there in spirit, but we never breath deep enough get a good whiff of the not-so-fresh air that makes us truly jump into action.

At the end of this month, we as University students have a special opportunity. As the team travels down to New Orleans to face Hawai’i in the Sugar Bowl, many of the Bulldog faithful will follow for what will most likely be Fall Break II.

But I beg you, my fellow students, do not waste your time in one of America’s greatest cities.

Move beyond the borders of the French Quarter and see the 9th Ward, Charity Hospital and St. Bernard Parish. Stop by Southern University of New Orleans and see aluminum trailers serving as classrooms and FEMA trailers doubling as dorms. If you take an extra day and take a drive around, I promise you’ll be heartened by the stories of progress from residents and profoundly disappointed with how little they’ve gotten help from the rest of us.