New Orleans. A tourist trap for some but a home to many more. The summer months weren't kind to the city, the humidity amplifying the scent of piss and vomit in the gutters of the streets from kids and adults unable to sustain their stomachs after a long night of binge drinking. Other than the drone of music from Bourbon and the occasional car that passed by, the only other noises that would fill the street were the clopping of horse hooves on the black top, usually toting a tourist cart along with it in which a man perched himself atop to direct the gullible money spenders to the architecture here and the history there. Dante despised what the city had become and furthermore, what it had always been.
2 am was when the city shut down, the bars closed, and the lights dimmed. This was marked by the loud symphony of chimes that originated from Jackson Square, where the cathedral proudly stood. It overlooked the surrounding blocks of Decatur and the river bank beyond it. In the shadows of its glorious height were two alleys deemed most dangerous in New Orleans. Pirate's Alley as they were both aptly named based on their legends and history.
View User's Journal
I Swear I Didn't Know That 45 Was Loaded...
In Fact My Memory Ain't Too Clear
 |
