It’s not the first time that I’ve found myself still awake more than an hour after turning out the lights I’m sure it won’t be the last. Like most times I just lay there and wait for it to magically, shockingly be morning and to be surprised by how suddenly I must have fallen asleep.
I spend some time playing with the new age hotel pillows. They are filled with some sort of gel that reminds me of the water weenies kids used to buy. Everything is all squishy and soft. They seem awesome until you try to sleep on them. The longer you lay your head in any given spot, the more the pillow filling squishes to every part of the pillow you are not laying on. The end result is that your head is always laying directly on the bed and there is an uncomfortable lump under your neck. I finally throw the offending pillow on the floor, lay my head on my arm and try to get some rest. Then the mind starts throwing out random thoughts and observances that gradually devolve into the level of absolute absurdity. As if the mind has decided to just do the whole sleep thing complete with brain twisting observations from the day without actually allowing you to go the hell to sleep.
When the mind decides to re-plan the job tomorrow morning, I’m fine with that. When it starts wondering what the shower will be like; will there be enough pressure to wash what little hair I have? I noticed that it came complete with one of those “we have no water pressure so instead of fixing that we installed one of these trendy but useless rain shower heads.” So I’m sure there will be no luck there in the morning.
However, when the mind brings out its inner petulant child and starts throwing out random absurdities like “have you noticed our testicles scrunch up and look like a brain when we’re cold?” I realize that it is just determined not to sleep at all and it’s time to start making other plans. I’m in New Orleans, one of my favorite cities on earth. I decide a walk won’t hurt a thing. I pull my pants back on, splash some water on my face and head outside.
New Orleans after midnight is almost like slipping into another world. Here I’m referring to the parts that are not the French Quarter which is Disney Land for alcoholics twenty-four seven. Once you get past all the tourists who seem determined and almost desperate to have a good time. Past the people puking their guts out because somehow they believe that over-imbibing in the French quarter is more magical than just being an alcoholic in training anywhere else. What happens in Vegas may stay in Vegas but typically what happens in the Quarter will ruin your shoes.
Past all the tourists you meet the locals. These are some of the kindest and most easy going people on Earth. They’ve seen it all and come away with an attitude of almost absolute acceptance of human nature. You just go ahead and be you, they will be them, and if it hurts no one it’s all good. If they judge you at all its typically never spoken aloud and if they do speak aloud it is to question if you can find your hotel, partner, or the emergency room on your own. I sincerely enjoy the people of New Orleans.
However even they have their moments. I get a tour of that tonight.
I’ve heard people refer to the feeling of having spirits and ghosts surround you, however somehow it feels more like I am the ghost and the living only barely notice the presence of an intruder that is not one of their party. Don’t speak or touch and I can just kind of drift through mostly empty streets and observe the life that happens here.
Sometimes I have to step back into the world of the living for just a moment. I step over a guy passed out on the sidewalk. He smells of vomit and Pina colada. He’s dressed well, snoring loudly. I watch as a rat crawls out of his jacket. Cockroaches scatter as he shifts position. I give him a shake and ask where he’s staying. He just fumbles around and finally, triumphantly holds up his room key. The hotel is less than a block away. I brave the vomit colada and stumble drag him to his hotel. I pick his wallet out of his pocket and read his name off to the clerk, summon a bell hop with a cart and they roll him off to his room. He’s already sleeping again. Feeling magnanimous I even return his wallet.
A few blocks later I see a woman and child standing in the streets. She is screeching at the window of an apartment. After a while a man stumbles out, track marks on his arm, eyes that won’t focus, and that distant air of a junky on the slow upswing of a fix. She’s using the child to guilt him into going home. Unfortunately, the child also gets to watch as he falls to the ground, breathing but unresponsive. An ambulance is called and I move on.
I end up at a bar. It seems when I step into the light I become a person again. The bartender takes my order, I sit at the end of the rail and seem to slide back into being a ghost again as soon as he drops the drink. Two chairs down I see a young man. He’s not drunk, in fact it seems he’s been nursing the same warm beer for some time. The beer doesn’t even have any condensation on it anymore. His hands have probably warmed it above room temperature by now. He looks somehow shut down, lost but expectant all at the same time.
Then a certain waitress walks by and he just lights up. I can see his jaw working like he’s willing it to say something but it just won’t move. This keeps up for about half an hour. I order another drink and send him a cold version of what he’s drinking. I lean across the empty chairs and say “Kid, you’re about a drink away from crossing the line of hopeful to stalker and I can guarantee you have a better chance if you try. Introduce yourself and ask her out already.” To his credit he thinks that over and actually tries. The next time she walks by he says (a bit too loudly) “Hey.” She stops, smiles a genuine smile and says “Yes?”
He delivers a stunning rendition of “Nothing, just hey.” By this time my head is actually in my hands. I ask him his name. It’s Kevin. “Kevin” I say “you are about to hate me with a burning rage like nothing you’ve ever experienced.”
The next time she walks by I knock back the rest of my drink and ask her if she has a moment. She comes over smiling, at Kevin. I ask her name, I shit you not, it’s Kelly. I say “Kelly, may I introduce you to Kevin? He has spent the better part of an hour telling me how you are the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen. He’s even told me that he’d love to take you out tomorrow night to someplace nice and get to know you.”
I believe Kevin is trying to shoot his eyes out of his head and kill me with the impact. “So Kelly, what do you think? He really is a nice guy but it will be a challenge for you as he’s almost terminally shy. Here take this.” I hand her a swizzle stick. “every time he clams up and gets awkward just stab him with this. It’ll help.” With a huge smile on her face she looks at Kevin and tells him to pick her up after her shift tomorrow at 7pm. She puts the swizzle stick in her pocket and turns to walk away then turns back.
“You’re a good friend.” She tells me. “Have you known each other long?”
“No mam” I say “we just met and I have a feeling he hates me more than that bottle he just shredded the label off.” I set my empty glass down, toss some money on the counter and leave.
Things ended and things began last night. Was anyone really wrong, I don’t know you don’t judge here. It’s New Orleans may as well try to fit in to the attitude I admire about the place. Just watch out for your shoes.