The Real World: Back to New Orleans, Episode 08
“I used to work for the phone company.” - Ryan
While not as dramatically charged as the presence of narcotics in the home of a recovering pillhead, one of this season’s important subplots is the continued and curious absence of Eric. Ashlee isn’t exactly getting a lot of press earlier, but what is going on with Eric is more confusing. Ashlee is trying to get her licks in - she drives the roommates around, is quick to sit by the computer and offer her judgmental two cents, and has no problem loaning a hoodie to a roommate who is too lazy/tired/drunk to put on some g-ddamn clothes already - but I just can’t bring myself to give a rip about anything she says or does.
The situation with Eric is different. Other than a few minutes chronicling his topical, boring and ultimately unsuccessful courtship with Sahar, he has been almost completely absent through eight hour-long episodes. Obviously pissbrush-gate and white-boy-virginity-gate and I-don’t-know-how-to-work-or-keep-track-of-this-audio-recorder-gate gave the producers plenty of celluose with which to work, but one has to believe that there is something else to blame for his lack of screen time. And is it a coincidence that the last time we saw something like this - a character truly falling off the face The Real World - was the last time the show was set in the Crescent City?
Not since Kelley shacked up with a med student and unofficially moved out of the Belfort mansion half way through the first Real World: New Orleans season have we seen a cast member play such a small role in the true story of a bunch of strangers picked to live in a house. Maybe it is more than just happenstance that a roommate has gone missing 100% of the time the show has been set in the Big Easy.
New Orleans has a magnificent way of swallowing you up, helping you lose touch with the outside world for days or weeks or months at at time. Sure, free flowing alcohol and readily available recreational drugs play some part in the long stretches of time one can shack up in the native brilliance of this city, but equal credit should be given to the diversity of people, places and things behind every corner of this place just waiting to fascinate you if you catch them right. I’ve been struck by these reckless but rewarding flights of fancy on many occasions, each one washing over me without much warning and requiring nothing short of my full cooperation.
It is no doubt wishful thinking to hope that the reason we do not see Eric more often is that he is spending weeks at a time consuming indie noise rock at Circle Bar or passing out on the streets of the Bywater after drinking one too many High Lifes at Markey’s, but I refuse to dismiss the possibility that he isn’t a huge part of the show simply because he got sick and tired of posting up at Monkey Hill. Hey, it happened to me.
I spied Parasol’s, Zara’s Lil’ Giant, and The New Orleans Mission. Here is a drawing:
