The Ball Is In My Court cont.

And, as I sat there, frozen to the wooden pew; listening to the judge say that the court was able to put a bond upon the heads of anyone given a summons in leau of being taken into custody; I realized that I had about 50 dollars in my pocket; and that getting up to leave the courtroom, ostensibly to grab a cigarette, but in essence to run from justice, would be a very cumbersome procedure as, I would have to grab my backpack and my guitar on the way out; and it might no longer look like I was just stepping out for a cigarette.
...so that's how they are getting us; making us bring our baggage into the courtroom with us; so that the District Attorney, along with the judge could see who the homeless are; and so that they would be trapped in the courtroom, unless willing to leave all of their posessions behind and step out, as if only using the restroom or having a cigarette; and then flee with only the clothing on your back....the bags in the courtroom are almost like a posted bond; insuring your return from the restroom....
Then, the proceedings started.
There were names called.
A few well dressed people were called; who all were spoken for by paid attorneys; and who all seemed to have been issued a "peace bond" which somehow allowed them to walk out of the courtroom after promising to pay a fine.
Then, out of the orange jumpsuit wearing section of inmates was called the only white guy; who stood up; revealing long hair like a surfer "dude" and who had been charged with "obstructing a public passageway (my charge)" plus "public intoxication."
He was given 30 days in the orange jumpsuit and then sat back down.
After an hour and a half, I was still not called; and everyone seemed to have been getting "peace bonds," which seemed to have been designed to allow out of towners back out onto the streets, but with some kind of leash on them; after they promised to pay fines.
I sat there, thinking fast.
I would have to perpetrate a fraud.
I originally was going to go the "being honest" route and say that I was a homeless street musician and things had been slow; and I hadn't been able to come up with the fine money, but then thought better of it.
I decided to give the judge some kind of "justification" to let me go.
I was prepared to say "Your honor, I have a chance to work during Mardi Gras; I just have to get my ID renewed and it's taking a couple weeks through the Rebuild Center." That would give him a rationalization for letting me out and giving me more time to pay the 200 dollars; lest he had already decreed "If they are homeless and unemployed; just get 'em off the streets for Mardi Gras.
Well, when I still hadn't been called and the room was almost empty; there was an announcement that anyone whose name hadn't been called, step forward to the little table where the procecutors sit.
They were both female and both giggled when they saw me. They told me that I was in the wrong room and needed to go the the payment room, as I was there to pay a 200 dollar fine.
March 7th
So, I asked for an extention and was given one and now must appear upon the above date to either pay; or maybe ask for another extention, or community service; or, what I will probably do is to try to make a couple small payments upon it; before that date; and then, if I ever return to New Orleans after being issued a warrant for "non payment," will be able to show that I had been making some progress on it; another thing that the court likes to see; and another rationalization for the judges letting you walk free when the guy next to you; who wasn't making any progress; just got 30 days.
Superbowl Friday
After leaving the courthouse feeling very relieved; I headed back towards the Quarter, on a beeline for a playing spot. A beeline which mimicked that strain which fly past The Unique Boutique in between flower and hive.
I ran into a guy, playing guitar on Decatur Street, at one of my preferred spots actually, whom I had heard once or twice before and wasn't very impressed with.
He plays a lot of chord figures that used open strings and is thus able to get a lot of jazzy sounding stuff; because when moving those kinds of chords around the neck of the guitar; the unfretted strings which drone the same tones constantly, will alternately become either chord tones that fit in diatonically (and thus sound like your "normal" chords) or with a slide of the fretted notes up one step the unchangeing notes can become the out-of-scale tones which are typical to jazz and exotic music from other cultures.
I use them myself; but then I always analyse them later to see what
Only, in jazz, the symetry is usually diversified, so that there isn't the parallel motion going on, which gives away the guitarist who is just using the sustained notes of the open strings as an auditory anchor and is acheiving some exotic sounding chords that he could do a lot more with if he knew what they actually were musically and where they might resolve to...
That being said; and even though I recognized him as being that kind of guitarist; and seeing that he had only 3 dollars in his case and that the folks on Decatur Street were just of one mind in walking past without tipping, I invited him to jam and he enthusiastically accepted.
It soon became apparent that he had a very good ear and, even though he knew no "chord names" as I had speculated he wouldn't, he was a very good sounding guitarist and he just sounded good; and we had a jam which was awesome in spots.
After 3 dollars had turned into 7, I suggested that we move to Bourbon Street to play across from Barnabys condo. I wasn't worried about the cops and their cerfew, because the French Quarter was in the grips of Superbowl fever.
We sat down on Bourbon Street and within 5 minutes had a 20 dollar bill and a few singles to go with it.
It was more quiet; and the people walking past were much better dressed than the average person walking on Decatur Street. (Of course the "average" on Decatur is dragged down by the gutter punks with their dogs on leashes...)
We split about 90 dollars after playing about 2 hours...