I landed in New Orleans in time for lunch. On the drive in to the French Quarter I saw that the city has cleaned up an awful lot since my last visit, 4 years ago.
I started getting a sinking feeling when I arrived at my hotel on Iberville St. I noticed the FQ has cleaned up, too. no more crumbling brick. No more rusty Louisiana lace. The stucco is fresh and new and all the buildings are now…whats the word?…plumb
I spent the afternoon looking for signs of apathetic decay, but they are seemingly gone. Later, I met up with my husband and his work folks for dinner and a little alcotainment (alcohol + entertainment) down on Bourbon Street. Walking the dirty mile, there is a noticeable police presence. Some joints have security staff. There are actual trashcans lining the sidewalks. When I noticed that all of the hookers and club girls are now wearing panties, my fear was confirmed; The French Quarter has turned into the Epcot version of itself.
There is a Build-A-Bear next door to the Hustler Club. OK, not really. Yet.
One thing has not yet changed. It still smells like jumbalya and sugar by day and piss and garbage by night.
I’ve got the day to myself to explore some more. I’m going to go hang out down in a cemetery and lament the good old days with those guys.