This is the second post in a mult-part series on New Orleans. Part I: The Magic of New Orleans: Bon Jovi and Cats
No place is more entertaining on a Saturday night than the three block stretch of Frenchmen Street that boasts the best live music New Orleans has to offer. Gypsy jazz pours from the doors of The Spotted Cat, while a crowd gathers in a crescent shape around the brass band on the corner, rhythmically pulsing as horns cut through the thick night air. Revelers fill the streets, moving from bar to bar like a slurry of molasses.
While fraternity boys and bachelor parties flock to Bourbon Street, Frenchmen attracts a coterie of musicians, artists, and locals on the eclectic side. This Saturday night we were blessed by Camerica, a fairy princess who was happy to let us take her picture once I said the magic word (“please”).
We also crossed paths with a group of about twenty people on the Dirty Santa Pub Crawl. They were dressed in various Santa Claus and elf outfits to celebrate the half-year mark until Christmas. One gregarious elf made sure that I noticed the fur lining his pointy ears. He told me this was a new, sexy trend.
Street theater artist The Forkmeister was also out and about, selling wearable art fashioned from forks and entertaining his patrons with stories and songs.
A woman in a bright pink wig gazed out the window at D.B.A., having smoked her last cigarette. Her friend in a matching pink wig had just left their nook to dance near the stage.
On our way home, we met two poets for hire, their typewriters clacking away when given a topic and a tip.
One of the poets, Matt, penned an eloquent verse based on the theme “blogging.” It turns out we had worked together over five years ago, right after Katrina, gutting the “little blue house” in the Lower Ninth Ward. We reminisced about the unique communal living/working experience of Common Ground, the volunteer organization that housed us.
Matt has been here since Katrina. He just bought his first house with the help of BP oil spill settlement money. After exchanging numbers, we strolled home to the Seventh Ward.
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