People in the Crescent City

Politeness and Piracy

I'd like to start this post with a shout out to all the people in New Orleans who have been so nice to me. My co-workers, my neighbors, the assistant manager of Rite Aid Pharmacy, my landlord, the waitress who served me a fairly bad salad this evening, the old dude with the keg last week and all the other people I keep meeting. These people are so nice and polite and just friendly in a real, sincere way. I feel like I have "New guy. Go easy." tattooed on my forehead! It's great and I am so thankful. A special thanks goes out to the guy who saved my butt by yelling "one way street" from his porch the other day as I zipped by his house. Thanks to him, people in New Orleans have remained nice to me. Mainly because I have not hit them head-on while driving the wrong way down a one way street.

Here's one other thing about a small sect of people in New Orleans. It's an observation and a belief of mine and it is being shared as a motivator for people to come visit. Ready? OK, here's the deal. There are real, in the flesh, true, legit pirates living in this city. Seriously. I'm not talking about peg legs and parrots and guys who drag out the pronunciation of Art Garfunkel to a hilarious degree. I'm talking about people who have no real need or use for modern laws, hygiene standards or shoe laces. People who are scoundrels in the most respectable way. People who live by a code that I am positive I could not understand. People who, if you stopped on the street and offered $100 for them to tell you what year it was, would stare you down and then mumble something about rum and pork chops. People who would find it perfectly normal to trade three fish hooks, a shotgun shell and a piece of pizza crust for a pack of cigarettes. It sounds like I am talking about mentally ill, homeless people. And this would be true in other cities. Not in New Orleans. Specifically, in the French Quarter of New Orleans.

As I walk the streets of the French Quarter during my lunch hour, I notice these people. The observation that sticks with me the most is that they don't stand out as peculiar or weird. Why? Because of their surroundings. (The tourists in their Crocs and cargo shorts are the ones who look weird.) They really do look like pirates, though! Crazy beards and sunburned faces and wild eyes and clothes that look like they're from the 17th century. I have not seen any swords or those little pistol muskets, but I'd bet anything there's a weapon there somewhere. It's OK, though. And they are standing in doorways of homes and peering out of windows and sometimes zipping by on ancient bicycles. They are the part of the French Quarter experience that comes absolutely free of charge and is one of the real reasons the place stays so popular. They're legit. They're living, breathing history in the roughest sense. They are not going to tell you jack squat about the city's history but they will probably have an opinion or two on all the ways the city has changed for the worst. It starts with me, my Crocs and my cargo shorts. (For the record, I do have Crocs but do not have cargo shorts. I'm pretty sure I got that one backwards in terms of being cool. It's OK.)

These modern day relatives of Captain Hook fit in perfectly fine and look perfectly normal in this one little neighborhood in this one strange port city in this one massive nation. Rip them off of Royal Street in New Orleans and plant them on Piedmont Road in Atlanta and they would probably be surrounded by the cops pretty quickly. There are only a few of them and I never take their photo because I am sure I would be verbally abused if caught in the act. (You'll have to come visit if you want to see one. We'll go out for drinks and pirate sightings.) They don't beg. They also don't look desperate or hungry or particularly pained at all. They do seem a little annoyed with all of the people like me. And they do seem very out of touch with all of the borders that touch their little enclave. But maybe that's one of the reasons people flock to this city from all over the world. Maybe it's good to get a little out of touch from time to time. Just a thought.

Don't worry about me becoming a pirate. I just find it interesting to see people who should be considered odd suddenly appearing very normal because of their home. The full or part-time pirate lifestyle is not attractive to me for the following reasons:
1) I have to shower pretty much every day.
2) The idea of contracting scurvy scares me to no end.
3) I could not grow a beard if you paid me.

Thanks for reading.