Tuesdays suck in the French Quarter. So do Thursdays. You see, Tuesdays and Thursdays are set aside for street cleaning in the Vieux Carre, which means you cannot park on certain streets between the hours of 8:00 AM and noon. This does not necessarily mean that the street-cleaning people will come along to dust the asphalt, but it does mean the tow-truck drivers will. So, at some time of the day or night on every Monday, we make sure that the car is not parked on any street perpendicular to the Mississippi River, and each Wednesday, we move the car - if need be - from any parking space parallel to the River.
It seems confusing when I explain it this way, but after your car has been towed a couple of times, it becomes clearer.
Yesterday, Bobby decided he would move the car, since he wanted to go to Walgreen's to find out why the pharmacist had slapped two of the same labels on two different medicines he takes.
I thought that was probably a good idea, so I let him go.
This morning, when he finally got out of bed, he mentioned to me that it would be nice if I stopped off at the Asian grocery on North Rampart Street to pick him up some Shrimp with Lobster Sauce when I went out to move the car back to its usual parking space by noon. I figured, okay, I had wanted some stuff from Walgreen's myself yesterday and didn't get it from him, so I might as well take the opportunity to get out of the house and pick up some Anbesol (don't ask) before I got him the Lobster Sauce. I quickly showered and remembered to grab my camera on my way out the door.
The reason for the camera was that orders at this grocery take forever to be filled. This way, I could amuse myself while waiting.
It turns out I didn't have to wait long before whipping it out and starting to shoot. As I reached the corner of Barracks Street at Decatur, I spied a friend of mine who works at Harrah's Casino. He was waiting for just the right bus to come along and whisk him away to work.
The reason he is standing almost directly under a sign that reads, "Gnome", means absolutely nothing as far as he is concerned. As you can see from his stance and his height in relation to the bicycle next to him, he is in no way gnomic.
The fact this his name is Carmine and that he hails from New Jersey holds no terror for me either.
After chatting with Carmine for a few moments, I continued on my way to the car.
Then there, in the middle of the 500 block of Barracks, I noticed this utility thing seeping out and down a concrete wall. I thought it would make an interesting picture, so I snapped it. The rest of my walk to the car was uneventful, even though I did snap another picture of a hibiscus, but since I've posted so many of those, I figured another one would be redundant.
(I sometimes wonder about those visual artists who do the same image time after time for years on end. Me, I don't do Blue Dogs. Me, I ain't rich neither. But, me, mais, I get bored.)
The trip to Walgreen's was uneventful if I discount the appearance of a certain person at the check-out counter whom I did not want to run into. No names, of course, but some of my friends would associate him with a certain dog that shits indoors in public places.
I just lurked in the aisles for a few extra moments before paying for my items and heading off to the Rampart Grocery for Bobby's Shrimp with Lobster Sauce.
Once there and inside, I was confronted with a mass of starving people ahead of me. I waited my turn before placing my order. The Korean lady was apologetic as she explained that it might take maybe fifteen minutes, but I was ready for that since I'd brought the camera with me. I would simply walk outdoors and take some shots around the neighborhood.
Luck was on my side. I'd beat the Grey Ghost before he could obliterate one of the last remaining Banksy's: this image of the Morton Salt girl on the corner of the Drop-In Center.
A little further down the street was this house with an interesting set of steps leading up to an interesting front door, all cracked paint and security bars.
While standing there, I happened to glance up to see the corner of the street itself (North Rampart and Kerlerec) with all its utility poles and cables strung across our old historic city, and I decided to try to get an image of all of that. This is what I came up with.
It soon became apparent to me that I was taking a lot of time taking a lot of pictures while that poor little Korean woman was making the Shrimp with Lobster Sauce. It must be done and waiting by now, I thought to myself, so I rushed back into the grocery.
Well, "fifteen minutes" must have meant "forty-five" in the local patois of the little village the little lady was from because she hadn't even started on Bobby's lunch by then.
But, hey, I had my camera, so I went back out. I wound up taking lots of pictures that will probably end up here over the next few days. They have a way of doing that lately, don't they?
What can I say?
'S how I roll.
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