Third Person Narrative

Now Look What's Floating Down The Street!

When we last left Daniel,
He had arrived at the library to find a posted announcement that the same would be closing early due to "approaching inclement weather."
He wondered to himself how rain and wind could "precipitate" the shutting down of that public building, and lamented that he would not be able to work for more than a half hour on his blog.
He doubted that the library would be open the following day, during the inclement weather, if the mere fear of its approach had them scurrying for higher ground.
He figured that the folks may have become a little bit skittish after hurricane Katrina, which was so bad that bodies washed up out of the graves in the cemetery and floated down the streets. Daniel thought about this and wondered if the residents were more shocked by this; or by the Southern Decadence Festival that year (photo above).
Friday night arrived, and Daniel ran into his little friend, Sue the Cuban Lady, who carries around her cat, Kooky, in a pet carrier, everywhere she goes.
Daniel swore himself to secrecy about Kooky's existence. Sue would be able to enter neither the library, nor just about anywhere else, if it were known that she was concealing an animal. Daniel referred to Kooky as "el gato," once, which provoked a "Shhhh!," from Sue -too many shop owners know the Spanish word for Kooky, here.
It was decided between the two of them that they would brave the approaching storm together.
It began to rain heavily and the winds picked up.
They spent the greater part of Saturday inside the Starbucks, watching the palm trees sway in a macabre dance which seemed to portend disaster, as black clouds flew in from the Gulf of Mexico, like illegal aliens up to no good.
There was a break in the clouds Saturday afternoon, and the sun actually came out. This led Daniel to foolishly assume that the weather forcast for hurricane-like conditions had been wrong and that the storm was over. He left, on his way to the music store to replace a string, which he had broken the night before, when playing under an overhang on the corner of Bourbon and Canal streets.
He had chosen this spot at the suggestion of Sue, who noticed that the large gang of young African Americans, who are usually there, banging on drums and playing horns, had taken the night off. They are called The In Your Face Brass Band (or something similar).
Sue wondered why they had taken the night off, and Daniel speculated that it was because of the sporatic rainfall, which would be bad for the drums, because of their wood components. Daniel is pretty knowlegeable about things like that, which complements his rugged good looks, making him a complete package.
He played by the spot.
He knew that the brass band had been playing there for years and that there were several famous photos of them with the Footlocker logo painted on the wall behind them. They had passed their song arrangements down from one generation to the next, as their lineup is in constant flux (as some of them go off to prison or better gigs).
Daniel hoped that they would not feel that he was moving in on their territory. Someone had warned him to stay away from them entirely. There is a certain aggression with which they blow their trombones and trumpets which puts one in the mind of a gang fighting on the street with chains and pieces of re-bar. They are as loud as a jet taking off from 75 yards away, this writer would estimate.
This illustrates one of the dynamics that Daniel has seen at work in New Orleans. Axiom #1: The Louder, The Better.
But then during his first song, the string broke, leaving him little choice but to play the song "My Favorite Horse," which he had composed in St. Augustine after breaking the same string.
It had become popular there, with the drivers of the horse and buggy rigs, which were ubiquitous there, taking tourists around the city. Each one of the drivers thought that their particular beast was Daniel's "favorite horse," and he wondered if they ever had spats over the subject.
Soon, a Scottish man came along, who had a harmonica. He and Daniel jammed for a while, and then the Scottish guy invited Daniel for a couple of pints at "a bar somewhere."
The Scottish guy chose the nearest bar, which was in an upscale Oyster House. The girl at the door greeted the Scottish guy, who was precieaux enough in appearance (that's a French word, which you will have to look up in the unabridged dictionary of the English language; what it's doing in there is a mystery to this writer). The girl looked at him approvingly, but, seeing Daniel and his guitar and his backpack and his dripping wet pony tail, she evinced an expression which said "You can't bring him in here."
The Scottish guy spoke up, derailing her immediate train of thought by saying "We just came in for a drink."

To The Store For Cat Food

Relieved, the girl pointed towards the bar and away from the people paying 80 dollars for little bits of sea protein in a calcium shell.
This Is A Good Woman
That night, Daniel found Sue. She had managed her way, between the raindrops, to the store and had gotten provisions for surviving a hurricane, to include deli meat for Kooky.
She had also found some dry cardboard -not an easy task in a city being inundated with 50 mph winds and swirling rainfall. This is a good woman, thought Daniel.
Inside a little stairwell, the cardboard was spread out, and it was decided, after some debating in hushed tones, so as to not alert anyone inside, that Sue would lay with her feet towards the street and her head near one corner, where Kooky would rest. Daniel would lay perpendicular to her with his head near her's, but separated by both backpacks, and his feet in another corner, but not the one where Kooky had peed the night before.
The poor cat seemed at a loss as to what to be most afraid of. First, there were the tourists lumbering by with their plastic ponchos fluttering in the gale, then there was the wind and rain itself; and add to that a strange guy with a guitar and backpack, and the cat was feign to come out of its carrier.
Sue tends to be just as jumpy herself. The night was spent watching the storm bend the palm trees with the rain intensifying at times such that they could not even see the other side of Canal Street. Both Daniel and Sue had the same unvoiced fear that, at any moment, the security guy from Rubenstein's was going to appear and tell them that they had 5 seconds to leave the property or he would call the police.
They eventually slept; as friends though not lovers. The cardboard remained undefiled.

Ma, send me money now;
I'm gonna make it somehow;
I need another chance;
You see, my baby loves to dance... -Neil Young

Next: When do things get bad enough so that you call your mom to ask for money???