Fools Russian, Where Angels Fear To Tread

From Russia, With Love

• It's Easy If You Try...
• Jasmine in need of repair
• Sue and mine's tumultuous relationship
• Courtdate Set For 2/29
• The Two Man Band
• Goodies From Gilroy

Imagine making 50 bucks for playing one song, five times...
Well, that is just what happened Saturday night, into Sunday morning.
Sue had shown up in the middle of my set on Decatur Street, and feigned to grab my backpack and run off, like she has done before. My head was turned the other way at the time, and it caused my heart to skip a beat, when I saw it out of the corner of my eye. The transition from horror to bliss when I beheld her was pleasant, as I had thought that she made the 2 mile walk just to see me.
Soon, it became evident, as she pulled out a bowl of excellent "gumbo," that the Asian lady had encountered her, making me wonder which one of us she is actuallly trying to feed, if not both of us.
Sue had gotten there before me, on an errand to retrieve or stash stuff at her super secret hiding place near my spot, and I guess she turned it into a double errand by including her visit to me.
I made about 13 bucks, as she clapped along, and then decided to knock off at 11:30, three and a half hours past the "curfew" on street performance on that street. I have noticed that the cops only ticket us on Mondays and Tuesdays, when other heneous crimes are slow.
We went to Bourbon Street and I set up at my semi-quiet spot, a little ways from the circus which is on the Canal Street end.
Soon, a couple arrived.
He was from Alaska ($$$), very lonely, and tired of the -37 degree weather.
She was from here, a photographer, heavily tattooed and on disability for a drug addiction (yes, you can get paid here to be a junkie!)
They sat and talked. I played some music and there was soon a 10 dollar bill in my case to go with the 13 which were already there.
They invited us to go for drinks. We found a trendy, hip and happening bar, where shots of good vodka were $20.50; a little pricey (I thought the extra 50 cents was "over the top").
Even the guy from Alaska thought it was a little too much oil-pipeline money for one shot of booze.
We headed for another bar, but, before we got there, we were accosted by a group of what turned out to be Russians, sitting on the steps in front of a condo. One of them wanted to play my guitar.
What I saw were a group of bums that wanted to bang on my guitar for their own amusement. I figured that if they loved the guitar that much, they would own one.
What the tatooed photographer girl saw, and explained to me later was "money" ("They're staying in a condo on Bourbon Street, and they're drinking out of glasses which are tailored to the exact kind of wine which is in them; and, did you notice the Dom Perignon on the table inside?")
Before she could communicate this, I rudely said "Nobody touches my guitar, dude!," which played right into their Russian hands. Russians are customarily rude to each other, as I suppose they feel that it is more honest than false pleasantry...
"I'll give you 10 bucks, if I can play your guitar," said one.
"Mozna!" (you may), I said. (I lived with a Russian lady for over a year, once)
Soon, 10 bucks fell into my case, quickly scooped up by Sue "I'll be the money holder," who was leary of it being snatched by someone. Very considerate of her to look out for "my" money like that...
Then, one of them asked my if I could play "Imagine," by John Lennon, John Lennon!!
That being one of my masterpieces, I played it. Another 10 bucks went to Sue.
"Again!," said the same guy, when I was finished. I fought back the exasperation over repeating the same song and repeated the same song. 10 more bucks.
"We need to stay here untill six in the morning," whispered Sue in between renditions. "Keep playing!"
Easy for her to say...
"Imagine" was performed 5 times, for a total of 50 bucks. Glasses of Dom Perignon and red wine were had by all, even Sue, who doesn't usually drink, but knows when the value of something is commensurate with her lady hood and not below her dignity...
Then, the couple, who had gone off to eat and drink, returned, and invited us to eat and drink with them, just as the Russians were finally tiring of the music of John Lennon.
We were led to a bar, where we were each handed shots of bourbon in test tubes. Sue "accidently" dropped all 12 dollars worth of hers. "You don't know what they might have slipped in it, you can't trust people!"
The Spat
Sue and I are now batting about .500 when it comes to us argueing after we both drink.
The couple invited us to crash at their hotel room, rather than our usual bed of mulch. Sue didn't want to go.
I appologized for her skittishness and assured them that it had nothing to do with lack of appreciation for all they had done for us.
We walked back to the mulch bed.
"Can I have the money now?" I finally asked, after I became curious about its amount and had an unsettling feeling about Sue being the "keeper" of it. I envisioned it becoming "our" money and subject to being spent by committee. I also knew that Sue was prone to walk off at the slightest provokation, such as a comment that I might make, which would offend her. I can remember times when I thought that she was walking a step or two behind me, only to turn my head and see her a quarter mile off and heading in the opposite direction, after I said something which she misinterpreted.
"No," she said.
"Are you just going to steal it from me?" I asked, which turned into a very good illustration of the above.
She emptied her pockets and threw money at me and said "Here. Here's everything they gave you!" and then grabbed her stuff and walked off. "I'm not a thief!!"
I haven't seen her since.
She has my mp3 player. I guess I will find out how honest she actually is, by weather or not I get it back.
Jasmine Holding Up
Meanwhile, I wait for the guy at the music store to get in some tuning machines, so that I can fix the Jasmine guitar before the string which I can't adjust snaps. While I have the money to do so.
"Not Guilty"
I got up this morning, in time to catch the 8:30 bus to arrive at the courthouse only an hour late.
I was determined to be indigent and referred to a public defender, who had a pen out and a form used to plead "guilty," which outlined all the rights to be given up by doing so. He pushed the pen towards me and told me to sign.
I remembered what Mary Howell, the civil rights attorney had instructed me to do and I politely refused the council provided to me at no cost by the Public Defender's Office.
"Good!" said Attorney Howell when I went to her office afterwards and told her what had transpired.
My "trial" date has been set for February 29th. It seems like events are conspiring to keep me here at least through Mardi Gras. After that, any number of things may happen, including catching a ride with the One Man Band, Joe who has a van.
Goodies Picked Up
I am almost out of time and don't want to slight this portion, but, I got a box from Alex in California which contained the pleasant surprises of pepper spray and tea bags, along with the expected guitar strings of which I was notified were on the way.