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In southern climes. part2

New Orleans is a hot, sweaty, badass town in summer. Dennis and I ended up in a bar on Bourbon st. in the heart of the French Quarter thinking we'd scored. Two hot ladies were paying close attention and getting us to buy drinks for them. Talk about naive! Finally, slightly worse for wear, we started to follow them across the street to their 'flat' when the 7' black manager of the bar suddenly appeared at our sides. " You boys want to stay here . . . and ladies, you can go wherever you want, just go." Well, Dennis and I were mortified and protested loudly until the massive man said: " Lord, I'm not going to waste any more time boys - these are working girls and their pimps are waiting 'round the corner ready to lay waste to your stupid white asses. I usually don't give a damn but you two are so obvious, I can't let it happen, you better thank your lucky stars today!".

That evening we went to see a film, The Wild Bunch. It was the most violent western ever made - at the time - and the temperature was 95 degrees fahrenheit with 90 degrees humidity. The cinema was packed and every time someone's arm or head was blown off the place would erupt with cheers and rebel yells. Quite an experience, New Orleans.

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