RAIN, RUN-OFF, & OTHER SUBSTANCES YOU’D RATHER NOT IDENTIFY (WHAT ARE PIRATE HOBOS MADE OF?)
Crossing Canal
As I reached Canal Street, newly baptized in hot chocolate and ready to cross into the Quarter, I found myself trapped. The truck parade was still limping along (it had started around noon and it was now past 4pm!) down roads lined with metal barricades. Emerging from St. Charles, the parade turned up Canal, rolling out of sight and creating a blockade that could take miles to circumnavigate. My feet were already throbbing and my cold certainly wasn’t improving. I’d spent over two hours and countless miles to get this far, so law and order would have to accommodate me at this point rather than vice versa.
Police presence, however, was strong this close to parade ground zero, for there is always a crush of tourists and over-enthusiastic locals on Canal Street radiating up and down the blocks adjacent to Bourbon. I headed north until I saw that people were beginning to leap barriers and rush up to floats with outstretched arms. Reaching a point where the breach was large enough to provide cover, I leaned over the iron railing and sat my hobo pack on a discarded, crushed box. Rain was still misting down and the streets–notorious for potholes in this town–were covered with puddles of rain, run-off, and other substances you’d rather not identify, [Read more…]
