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New Orleans is the neighborhood we carry inside us. We claim it when traveling where Mardi Gras is merely another Tuesday. We fly our colors boldly in towns where the Saints are just another NFL franchise. On storm evacuations, we pine for home, and pray for it, and bond with the folks who set up barbecue pits in motel parking lots: fellow travelers who become our New Orleans neighbors for a few nights. Even in our suburbs, we embrace the city, proudly declaring “New Orleans” whenever out-of-towners ask where we’re from.