Monday, 31 March 2014

Never the Worst One

The sole honest, comforting thought that I always seem to leave New Orleans with  is the fact I was not the most embarrassing person wandering the streets of the city that weekend.

While I did manage to deter paying customers from a restaurant after being shown to a table next to mine.... at 1pm.... and befriend some lovely girls enough to hang around at their place of work while they began their 1am... I can promise you that there was someone. somewhere. that was more of a spectacle than I was.

As much as I would have liked to document these animalistic examples, as proof that there are humans that are sub- to my sub-human, that would be of no benefit to anyone but myself so I held back.

Believe it or not, there was plenty to distract me from the lions and tigers and bears by looking just past Bourbon Street and it's rose-colored Hurricanes. Take this super-mom and her two-toned bun for example. Not only are her pants as spacey as most of Canal St. on the reg, but the fashionistas next to her could give the entire Jolie-Pitt-Holmes-Cruise-Knowles-Carter-etc-etc. clans a run for their money

Clearly I was going for loud statements that weekend as they were much easier to recognize in the mindset I was in than subtle beauty, which brings us to our next group of subjects. While all the hair was mesmerizing the first time I found it at the French Market that day; it was was even more so when I saw the same hair destroying the trumpet at a club the French Quarter later that night. 

As I have come to find out, average Joe's and basic bitches will not fare well in Nola. Let your weirdness shine without no inhibitions and remember, there is always someone weirder. 

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