I walked all over the flippin' French quarter. Lots of old people tourists today, and only one series of frat guys who were screaming and whooping outside of some bar on Saint Peter's Street. So jock-like. I mean, they went up to random people who passed by and went, "WWWOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!" at the top of their lungs (I crossed the street to avoid them). Scared the shit out of some 5-year old girl with her family on one of those mule-drawn carts. She burst into tears and everything, while the mother screamed at one of them. His response? Woo.
Saw that awesome band with the girl violinist in the leather vest again. As they were deep into playing, I didn't get to ask them who they were. I also saw another bad that was really ... French. Not that any one of them wore a striped shirt and carried a baguette, but... they had this old-world, Hemmingway-esque French vibe going. I got a few pictures of them. They were awesome! Until they sang. The man and the woman sang off key and off harmony of one another. That may have been on purpose, to give the singing a stark blues feel, so I just endured it. Sad as fuck; like the stark background music of a film noire, but I kind of liked it.
I wish these bands had CDs to buy!
I made it to the Louis Armstrong Arch, which is in bad shape. It's rusted and in a bad part of town, if the locals hanging about were any indication. I felt like I had stepped into the old Anacostia in DC. I went into more occult shops. Most of them are just tourist traps, run by aging Gen-Xers, sadly. I discovered today that grommet piercings sag with age, so... just a word of warning to all you piercing enthusiasts there. I went down to Cafe Du Monde and had a cafe ole and beignets, while some blues band played Beatles and Gloria Gaynor covers.
I went into a used book store. It was one of those old kinds, and it had that old book smell. Oh, God, I could have spent all day in there. Sadly, I had to get back to rest up for tonight's banquet.
Tomorrow, I think I am going to go down to Market street.