Meyer the Hatter. Chapter 524.
I popped into Meyer the Hatter earlier today. Gentlemen of distinction plan ahead for springtime, when their thoughts turn fancy, as the oat fields blossom. I need something that will not fall off during Cossack dances. Meyer the Hatter is just the place.
I am rarely in the CBD (Central Business District, to new readers) but I had some banking to do on St. Charles Avenue. Far be it from me to miss an opportunity to daydream about new hats.
Have I mentioned that I have been riding my bicycle, exclusively, for the past two weeks? If not, I have been riding my bicycle, exclusively, for the past two weeks so I am even more loth than usual to visit the CBD. I already dislike crossing streetcar tracks on a Vespa. On a bicycle I dislike it even less. Especially when they are wet, which they were not today.
We have not seen rain in over two weeks. I would have noticed.
When I say that I dislike crossing streetcar tracks on two wheels, I do not mean perpendicularly. I mean with my wheels parallel to the tracks, like changing lanes, or making a curved turn in traffic. It is treacherous, a maneuver that needs to be practiced.
One time, Mrs. King was there, we saw a lady have her Vespa slip out from under her on a streetcar track on North Carrollton Avenue. She got pinned under it and the weight of the impact broke four bones in her foot. I had to give her mouth-to-mouth.
A flaneur in New Orleans gets into all sorts of situations. I was the only person on the scene who knew CPR. What do they teach young people nowadays?
There are only a few places where it is necessary to drive between the streetcar tracks. Most people do not cycle down the neutral ground on Canal Street, there is more than ample room on the shoulder.
The streetcar on St. Charles Avenue outside of the CBD also has command of its neutral ground. That grassy neutral ground accommodates those on two feet but not on two wheels. People run between the streetcar tracks between Calliope Street and South Claiborne Avenue. A dirt track runs through it.
When the St. Charles line runs on St. Charles Avenue and on Carondolet Street, it is in traffic. The tracks are laid in pitted, irregular ruts, that are hazards in and of themselves. New Orleans cannot have anything good. The climate is rough on everything.
As soon as something is fixed, it starts falling apart. I am not talking about New Orleans, specifically. The same observation applies to life in general.
Have you ever looked in the mirror?
If you would like to know what I saw when I looked in the mirror today, you will have to be a paid subscriber. My flanerie is in high dudgeon today. And, to think, it all started with a trip to Meyer the Hatter.