I saw love being made vertically in a trench-coat wrapper at 3 in the afternoon.
I saw street acrobats performing incredible leaps for donations.
I saw breasts aplenty. And nobody was even handing out beads!
What’d you see in The Quarter?
I saw vomit. Stepped in some, too.
(Hurriedly makes notes, as he shall be in NOLA for a business meeting in three weeks… )
I once saw people boffing in Jackson Square during a Mardi Gras parade.
I saw stripper bars with mirrors in the doorways so that passers-by could see the show and be enticed in.
I saw displays of amazingly realistic dildos in well-lit shop windows.
All of which was a helluva culture shock to someone who’d just stepped off a plane from Salt Lake City
I saw some people filming a movie (called “Mardi Gras”, strangely) and a man dancing with a golf club (not part of the movie).
NOLA is the only place I’ve been heckled for jogging. Including my fave: “God already knows when you’re going to die, buddy!” This from a filthy bearded dude still drunk at 7 AM. So, fine, I’ll jog with a beignet in one hand and a hurricane in the other and let God sort it all out.
I saw my yellow lab drinking out of the gutter in the Quarter as we were walking through. They don’t call that muck on the streets “gravy” for nothing!