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Message: <blockquote data-quote="RangerWickett" data-source="post: 2198696" data-attributes="member: 63">Now that I'm not quite so sleepy, I'll relate some of my memories.The Golden Statue of Joan of Arc sitting atop a horse, pointing forward and bearing a banner that flares out behind her dramatically.The House of Blues.  You've got to go down a little alley past bouncers to get in, and even then you're only in the casual part of the restaurant.  If you want to eat while getting live music, you've got to pay more.  I never did.  The ceiling of the common room is adorned with dozens of relief sculptures of the faces of famous blues artists, arcing overhead and lit with dim blue light.  The only faces I remember recognizing are, ironically, John Belushi and Dan Akroyd.On our walk back from the House of Blues, we spotted a dude singing a classic song, standing and clapping and singing on the side of the road, with a hat on the ground next to him for donations.  The song might have been When the Saints Go Marching In, or any of a dozen other things, but it was classic enough that we were all able to stand with the guy for three minutes and sing and clap along with him in a little New Orleans jam session.  We paid him ten bucks and thanked him for the fun.Bignettes are tasty.  We washed our hands a lot.There's this great ferry that goes across the Mississippi from the aquarium to the zoo.  It's a little three decker thing, and the times I rode it the weather was in the 40s.  It's damned windy when you're in the middle of the Mississippi.One night, we were walking the French Quarter, and we stopped in a humadore and picked up cigars, because this was right after our high school graduation, and we felt like smoking to celebrate.  So we're smoking these $15 cigars, feeling like big men, when we turn onto Bourbon Street.  In fact, I'm amazed no one has mentioned Bourbon Street before.  The place was crowded as hell, and even far from the Mardi Gras season, there were women flashing people.  But what stands out most in my mind is looking down the street, over the heads of the crowd, and seeing this huge wooden cross set up in the middle of the road.There was a cluster of missionaries, holding up this cross and handing out flyers, decrying us as sinners and asking us to accept Jesus into our lives.  Now, everyone in the group was a Christian, but we were still amused as hell at this show, so we went over there, puffing smoke, and listened to them talk for a while, nodding politely, occasionally offering them a draw on a cigar.  When we got bored of their talking (because, honestly, these are the sort of people who never end a conversation on their own), we took their pamphlets, walked away, and dumped them on the ground with all the other hundreds of pamphlets littering the road.As we headed back to the car, we could see a scattered trail of pamphlets, like a visual record of who was most resilient, and was able to hold out the longest before dropping the things.</blockquote>

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