Down South: Day Two
Day Two started with a refreshing shower and a robust cup of coffee from the breakfast buffet. I also indulged by having a glass of orange juice with a delicious croissant. I liberated some fruit and another croissant for the road. Hey, traveling can be expensive, so when I have the opportunity to save money, I take advantage. My first destination was the Saint Louis Cemetery one and two. They were no farther than a mile and mile and a half from the hotel respectively. With my water bottle filled, I was off like a prom dress. The humidity was thick, and I immediately began to sweat. It was just past 7:00 AM and thought about the impending swelter that lay ahead. With a quick glance at google maps to confirm my direction, I was officially on my way.
Before I arrived at my first destination, that would be Saint Louis II, I passed through an area of construction, luxury apartments coming Spring of 2018. The irony here is just 50 yards away was the worst concentrated congregation of homelessness I have witnessed to date. The smell knocked me back for a moment, and I had to recalibrate my senses. I'm not sure how the future tenants of these dwellings are going to react to seeing addicts shoot up, hookers giving head and people defecating openly and without shame. I am confident that will not be listed in the brochure as a highlight or amenity. The area itself was a stretch of freeway and spanned a few hundred yards in total length. There was chain link fencing around the perimeter that stood as nothing more than a symbolic barrier. I was cautioned about this area and with good reason. It is one thing to venture dark territory in your hometown, to attempt this in a strange land is foolishness. I heeded the warning bells in my head and continued onward.
Arriving at my destination, I paused for a moment, respect for the dead means something to me and I wanted to tread lightly. Within these walls resided the hallowed remains of generations past. Families that had played their role in building this town from nothing to what stood before me now. If nothing else, I wanted to honor that fact. All crypts were above ground and the conditions varied from tomb to tomb. The causes for this varied. Some were maintained by the family, others maintained by the church. Some lay in ruins as there were no longer keepers to attend their needs. There is a volunteer group that also helps with up keep but this process is funded by donations and money can be scarce. Every structure told a story and if you looked with good intentions, to could see it as plain as day. The comforting fact as I walked amongst the burials was the tokens of affections not lost and gestures of memory still fresh in a loved one’s heart. There was an intense devotion still present here, old school devotion to the lineage that told a person’s history. It filled me with a nostalgia for family and friends that I have lost along the way. The mild hurt I felt at that moment was worth the price of the recollection, Vaya con Dios my friends, you will always be remembered.
Heading back to the hotel I was stopped by a brief downpour, and this occurrence would happen several times during my stay. I took refuge in a small park and waited for the deluge to subside. My presence did not go unnoticed, and it was evident to those around that I did not belong. A smile, respectful head gesture and "Good morning." Kept thing from becoming too tense. There were several areas of town where the local homeless were quite territorial, and this happened to be one of them. The moment the rain stopped I was on my way again. I was soaked, a dry shirt and fresh pair of socks were needed to remain comfortable for the remainder of the afternoon. I cannot stress to you enough how marvelous air conditioning feels in this town. Like a heater in upstate New York in the winter, I wouldn’t want to be without one. A cold shower, quick change of clothes, and refill on the water bottle, I was back on the pavement. The crowds had grown from what they were, and I was hopeful for fruitful interactions. I strolled down to Jackson Square and began to mingle. If I were to break the ice and find my groove, this is where it would happen.
Jackson Square proved to be a bust, more hustlers, and tourists than anything. I chalked up the loss to the time of day and the fact it was Thursday. I cut my losses and headed down Decatur Street. Walking a beat has always done me properly in the past and here should be no different. My instincts were correct, and by the time I made it to Canal Street, I had spoken to several people and obtained a few captures. The well now had water, and it was time to drink deep. When I stalk the streets, the time has no concept for me. I get lost in the moment and the subtleties of change in my environment signal that certain things should occur. The sun had sunk lower in the sky, and now I felt the pains of hunger. The streets were going nowhere, and if anything, the nightfall would bring a fresh crop on interesting persons to interact with. I chose a restaurant based on A/C and the fact they had a club sandwich or hamburger. I wanted to take a load off my feet and change out my shirt again as well. The moisture content of the air was a bite in the ass, and it had taken its toll for the day. However, I was still hydrated, and there was life to be wrung out of these old bones.
Dinner was divine, and union smoke break was over, time to see the dessert menu. Of course, it had rained again, so any chance at a reprieve from the stickiness had evaporated. At this point, I didn't seem to care as much. Doing what I do, you can’t have sand in your vagina and worry about the conditions of your surroundings. I wouldn’t make it far if I did. Mulling through the people that now littered the streets, it is hard to single out someone from the heard. The hustlers were in full force and had left the confines of the park area. The level of drunkenness had risen as well, which added another dynamic to the situation at hand. Then It hit me; I was on Bourbon Street. Morbid curiosity drove me from one end to the other. Obi-Wan said it best, “You will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy.” There is no way for me to articulate myself in a fashion that ultimately conveys the amount of disgust I have for Bourbon Street. The only thing worse is the morning after on Bourbon Street. I have been to some fucked up places people, and this is the only time my hand never left the butt of my pistol.
By the time I made it back to civilization, this was in the form of Canal Street, I was spent. I wanted to attempt a photograph of shadowy Jesus and then call it a day. I trekked back toward the hotel using Royal Street. Here is where I would find the back-courtyard area of Saint Louis Cathedral. It was fenced off, and there was no other way to capture my image except through the fence. I considered jumping it to gain better access but spending the night in jail for trespassing didn’t sit well with me. I did what I could with what I had and moved on. The room had become my sanctuary of sorts. The warm water offered comfort on my weary body and softness of my bed a sweet reminder of home. I had a plan for tomorrow that entailed expanding my perimeter, and Lafayette Cemetery was on tap. This walk was only 2.8 miles but would take me through the Garden District as well. It would also put me in a good position to explore the northern area of Magazine Street before walking back. As my body recovered, I drifted to sleep. Tomorrow was day three.