Saturday Night

One of the ladies who works in the office of the youth center is in the running for Most Generous Person of All Time Award. On Friday, she gave us her car for the weekend. Keep in mind that we had known her for a grand total of four days at that point. I believe the offer was made when she heard that we were planning on finding a ride into the city on Saturday. It was then that she gave us the keys and basically said 'y'all have fun!'. We put the generosity to good use and took the car downtown on Saturday night.

Parked the car by the river after a particularly hairy drive into New Orleans. Navigation was tough but we figured it out. Wandered around taking pictures and looking like tourists. At the French Market, we all got some knick-knack or another, my purchase being sunglasses like the ones I had lost/left at home. They were five dollars. The market is a lot like Pike Place in Seattle for those who know it and a little like a swap meet for those who don't. When we reached the end, vendors were packing up and leaving so we headed to Margaritaville for dinner. Had my first Po' Boy. These are famous here and if for no other reason, it's because of the price. The sandwich is 11 inches and this is apparently standard wherever Po' Boys are sold. Mine was fried catfish which tastes pretty much like fried anything but was still filling. Upstairs, there is a little bar with tire swings for seats. These should be required at all bars as a passive sobriety test.

After dinner, we hit the streets. More musicians had come out by this time and I could have stayed and listened to each one for hours. This isn't your daddy's street music. The rest of the group kept ducking into shops allowing me to take pictures. Difficult to shoot without my tripod. Lots of blurry shots. We got away from the French Market and the street music began to die out, replaced by a Muhammad Ali impersonator ("Float like a butterfly/sting like a bee/your hands can't hit/what your eyes can't see/I thought I's pretty/but you mo' pretty than me" - spoken to a passing girl) and tarot card readers. Suddenly, we were on Bourbon Street.

Bourbon Street is absolutely insane. Normally, I would call it insane to a lesser degree but the fact that we visited on a TYPICAL Saturday night makes it absolutely insane. For what I approximate to be a half-mile, dozens - maybe hundreds - of bars pack in the patrons to listen to all manner of live music. Mostly jazz but also rock, country, swing, karaoke, rap and even Top 40 were heard. Each bar is full. Each bar has drink specials. Each bar has a hotel above it. Each hotel has balconies. Each balcony has drunk men with beer and beads. Each drunk man with beer and beads is shouting at the top of his lungs. One drunk man had his beads on a fishing pole. He craftily dangled the beads at eye-level on the sidewalk. He too was shouting at the top of his lungs. There is a two-block section in the middle that is entirely strip clubs replete with bikini clad girls at the door to entice you in. Most enticing is done with their back(side) to the street.

Realizing that partaking in Bourbon Street is a thing to be planned for, we headed back to base. It was still early so we hung out in our director's room for a few hours. Then, bedtime.