Escaping Catastrophe.
When there is a catastrophe, there is an escape route.
There are statues around New Orleans to mark where evacuation rendezvous-vous points. I know there is one at Armstrong Park and one at the intersection of Poland Avenue and St. Claude Avenue (I think). They have not been used since they were erected. They are pretty much invisible at this point, part of the landscape to pass by, like trees or trash cans. I know there are more but I cannot recall where they are. Maybe in front of Warren Easton High School?
What mythical figure represents the spirit of New Orleans? Is it Rex? Is it Zulu? Is it Big Shot? Yes.
I do not know why every couple of months I pass a puppet show. I always stop. I am a puppetry aficionado. I am not the first person to observe that I attend more puppet shows than anyone else. I do not mind sitting in the grass. We are all God’s children.
I am not a fan of The Boot. I am sure someone I know has spent time plenty of time at The Boot as a teenager, even though he attended neither Tulane nor Loyola Universities. The Boot is a college bar with a reputation.
I only think about The Boot if I have to. It has to be a conscious choice.
Grapefruit juice gives some people heartburn. I once knew a lady who could only drink one daiquiri per day, any more would give her heartburn because of the lime juice. She was not talking about frozen daiquiris, she could drink those by the quart. Frozen daiquiris are made of flavored sugar water and rum.
The reason I am thinking about The Boot is because Elzibeth and her boyfriend go there. Elzibeth is spelled correctly. She goes to Loyola University. The boyfriend goes to Tulane.
Elzibeth took my photograph today. Elzibeth enjoys photography but that is not why she is attending Loyola University. It is what her boyfriend is studying at Tulane University.
My face is getting so fat. If you can help it, do not get old. I am getting as jowly as Nixon.
My advice to women who patronize The Boot is to beware of date rape drugs. The Boot is infamous for slipping a mickey. That is why I do not go. I like to keep my wits about me, as everyone knows. I hate it when wake up in an alley because someone slipped me a mickey the night before.
All I know is what I read in the Times-Picayune and word on the street.
“Don’t worry, Mr. King,” Elzibeth told me. “I never go to The Boot without my boyfriend. He lives nearby and it is right there.”
Proximity encourages mischief. Ask anyone who has had an affair with a co-worker.
Speaking of which, I would like to tell you a rumor I have heard on the street. I am cutting everything about it that I have written thus far because I want to do my due diligence. Stay tuned. I will tell you all about it tomorrow.
It is a bombshell.
I am not making this up. This is, once again, what we call citizen journalism.
Let me draw the curtain. I have something to share with the paid subscribers.