When I first visited New Orleans, many years ago, I was struck by the the shear force this place has on one’s senses- the smells, the sights, the sounds, the flavors.
I was like a kid in a candy store- “I’ll take one. No, make it two of each. Oh yea. I can handle it”.
And now I live here, and I’ve had to learn to deal with people just like I was- amateurs and Queens.
The thing is that all of these stimuli seem to mingle and find you at the most expected moments, wrapping themselves around a dark corner and scaring the shit out of you, or with a hand out when you open a door, sometimes with a mustache and a skirt.
“You might consider a different shade of lipstick the next time you shave. Your coloring is a bit ruddy for Pretty In Pink- here’s a five. Namaste.”
“Excuse me. Could you pick up after your ostrich shits on my tree lawn? What? Sure. Rake the leaves too- here’s a five. Peace.”
“That’s true. Huge Ass Beers and beignets don’t always mix well. Oooh nooooo…. I’ll get the hose- and here’s a five. Clean-up. Have a blessed day.”
“Wow! That witch costume is amazing! It’s not a costume? Does your coven take donations?”
New Orleans is an amazing place but it’s easy to become overwhelmed. You must pace yourself or you’ll parish under the weight of a culture of abandonment and merry making, with a bit of hoodoo mixed in for good luck.
So at this time of year, when the crazies come out to play, I often enjoy my witchy brew from our balcony…
So I don’t end up here anytime soon.