Da Freaks Come Out

(April 25, 2001)

"Hey," he crooned, stopping me in my tracks somewhere on Bourbon Street. "I'm not as big as you but I'm okay, right?" He was black. He was large. He was heavily made-up with neon eyeshadow, oversized lashes and dark lipliner dramatically redefining the borders of his shiny, pouty lips. We stood there grinning at each other, his white T-shirt tied halter style under an enormous set of tits, which he was currently clutching, one in each meaty hand. It looked like he had a pair of Nerf footballs in there. I looked down at my own knockers-- not nearly as big as his-- then back at those eye-level bazongas. "Yup, those are great!" I agreed. Satisfied, he smacked his lips, stuck out his bare belly and sashayed on down the street in the direction of Larry Flynt's Hustler Club.

I watch him walk away and then, "Hey Long Tall Ponytail," came a velvety voice from behind. I turned to see a wiry teenager in a dashiki doo-rag sidle up to Hub. "Betcha ah kin guess where y'all bought dem sneakers." Hub said something to make the kid go away and kept walking, the kid matching Hub's stride for a few steps, oozing offers to guess where we're from for a buck, "wouldja be honest?" Eventually the kid gave up and latched onto another tourist-- no shortage of those on this manic kalaidoscope of a street. Hub looked a look at me. The look said 'you spent the whole day here?'

"Well," I said, "these kinds of things weren't happening earlier today." It was true. It was Day 1 in New Orleans. In the morning I'd left Hub at his conference at the Hyatt and walked, eventually after circling the Superdome for awhile, towards the Mississippi River until I found the French Quarter. Den of thieves. Home of the brave. I spent the whole Day 1 exploring the tiny but teeming grid bordered by Canal and Esplanade. New Yorkers, I know what you're thinking... there's another unique village containing a Canal Street and an Esplanade Ave bordered by a dirty river, writhing with Ru Paul disciples and street hustlers? I know, I was as shocked as you are. I walked up one street, down another, into shop after shop. I discovered the Mardi Gras bars that serve frozen drinks, and found that they go down real easy. I toured the wax museum, appreciated some jazzy buskers with dollar bills, admired the squat end-to-end-to-end pastel buildings with their wrought iron railings, blooming with hanging plants and lanterns and laundry and flags. I made note of the art galleries and antique stores I would explore later.

So, this was the famous French Quarter. It's fabulous.

IF I wondered whether, later in the week or even that night, there'd be much difference from this...a Wednesday, daytime, between Mardi Gras (which ended Easter Sunday) and the Jazz Fest (which starts next Friday)...it didn't really register. I MAY have wondered that, but a few hours later there was no doubt: At night, the French Quarter morphs into something totally other, starting around Happy Hour. Okay, all the hours are happy given the overabundance of booze hawkers, but right around dinner time, it gets REALLY happy. Stinky, slurry, naked happy.

In the daytime I did notice a rank smell, especially in the Bourbon Street area. I couldn't help but notice the abundance of guys with brooms and hoses and disinfectant cleaning the sidewalks. I didn't notice that most every shop had real working shutters (in New England our shutters are just for show). Many were open, some were closed. Later, at night, when I went back with Hub, the formerly-closed shutters were flung open to strip clubs and sex shops, which had impressive collections of dildos and dongs. Chicks were posing in doorways. Guys were out on the street with placards yelling "2 for 1" and "3 for 1" happy hour prices. Sexy music was blaring out of every doorway, and everybody had a drink in their hand, a Hurricane or Hand Grenade, talking, walking, or just listening to the zydeco and jazz and Dixieland. Still later, it became obvious what the broom & hose guys had been cleaning up earlier. And what the smell was.

So, this was the famous French Quarter. It's fabulous.

I couldn't wait for Day 2.

Laissez les bon temps roule!!