One of the problems I've discovered that is unique to New Orleans is that many of the bars here do not close. They are open 24/7, and that means no "Last Call" at 2AM or whenever.
This is problematic for me in that, without "Last Call", I don't know when it's time to go home.
Keep in mind that these places are like Vegas casinos...window curtains shut, no clocks that you can see, and on-stage entertainment that doesn't stop--everything from singers to comedians to chicks doing erotic poetry reading. (Don't judge unless you were there.)
I'm in one of these places this past weekend...and I just stopped in for a drink or two at around 10PM. Conversations were had, beer was enjoyed, then there was a James Cagney movie on the corner TV that I had to watch, and there was food brought over from the place next door and more conversations and beer were enjoyed. Next thing I know, someone comes in the front door, and I see freaking DAYLIGHT out there. It was almost SIX AM!!! How did that happen?!
So I walked back home, telling myself that I might be getting a bit old for this kind of stuff. About half way there, some guy who is trying to parallel park a construction van in a spot that's probably too small yells over to a drunk guy on the sidewalk to watch him back in.
OK, So the drunk guy watches as he backs up...and backs up...and backs up. Then a loud crunch is heard as he smacks into the little Scion parked behind him. The drunk guy give him a big "thumbs up" and shouts "That's far enough!" Now the van guy is pissed off, but hey--who asked a random drunk guy to do a job that you should have done for yourself, fella? Next time you're trying to park, I'll just keep walking, ok?
And the worst part about getting home at 0630 is that I still have to be in church at 1100. Lack of judgment/common sense does not excuse one from responsibilities.
Definitely getting too old for this stuff. But damn, I'm having fun. And a lot of these bars and late-night art galleries let dogs in, so Murphy and Belle are making new friends, too.
Going to Jazz Fest tomorrow with some of my strange new aging hippie neighbors. I am DEFINITELY not in West Virginia any more. (Although, this aging hippie neighbor is also a Crazy Cat Lady who feeds a dozen or so neighborhood strays...some things are just inescapable, I guess.)