Molasses Is Jealous
Tuesday was as forgettable a day as there could be.
To say that things were "slow" would be an insult to snails everywhere.
An hour and a half of busking at Lilly's in the early evening produced no money.
I went and traded food off my card for a couple beers at a certain store, then found a couple almost full drinks outside Pat (no outside drinks allowed) O' Briens, which I presented to Leslie, who was at his apartment, broke and sober and with "nothing to do."
Sidebar:
Leslie's "energy check" didn't arrive Tuesday, due to the holiday(?).
It is supposed to go towards his electricity bill; but he uses it for beer money instead, opting to use as little electricity as possible to balance the difference.
The check will most likely come today, in the afternoon mail, and so "we" will have drinking money tonight. He has a job interview at 4 p.m. and will have to abstain until that is over.
My food card should be charged with 180 dollars at 5 o'clock tomorrow morning, giving additional security; should I have another zero dollar night (I have had only 3 in the past 2 years here).
Leslie will get 90 dollars on Saturday for selling his; giving additional security; should I have another zero dollar night on Friday...
The lack of tourists had a global effect throughout the Quarter last night.
People on Bourbon Street each had their own personal skeezer, as the numbers were pretty much equal between the two factions.
Where You Got Your Shoes
I saw two well dressed gentlemen, one of whom was holding a cup of what looked like Abita beer, being accosted by the "shoe" guy.
He is a 300 pound black man (more fat than muscle) who arrests the progress of tourists and bets them 20 (or 100, depending upon his discretion) dollars if he can tell them "where you got your shoes."
If they take him up on the bet, he will tell them either "You got your shoes on the sidewalk on Bourbon Street in New Orleans, Louisianna," or "You got one on your left foot and one on your right foot!"
He is hoping that they will chuckle and say: "You got us!" and hand over the money.
He has been known to become aggressive and violent and yell "You made a bet, now I want my money!" when he is drunk enough, and he senses weakness.
The police are actively trying to catch him practicing his "hustle" (scam).
When he actually tried me once (I didn't have my backpack nor guitar on me, and might have been a tourist) I pointed out his grammatical error; to wit:
He did not say "I bet I can tell you where you have got your shoes," to which the answer could be "on the sidewalk," but rather "where you got (i.e. acquired) your shoes."
That's a big (300 pound) difference...
One group of tourists walked past him as he was working another group the other night, and one of them yelled "Don't do it; it's a scam! I'm calling the police now!" as he poked at his cell phone.
The shoe man said: "You got me!" and held his hands up in the air like he was under arrest.
Another thing that shoe man will do is produce a spray bottle and bend over and spray some kind of liquid onto the shoes of the tourist, unbidden, and then start to polish them.
His reasoning is probably that; once the whatever-it-is is on his shoe; he will not want to continue walking around with it wet; and will hold still while fatso wipes it off; after which fatso will insist upon payment for services rendered (20 dollars a "shine").
I am just waiting for some ex-college-football-player of a tourist, who has had one too many Hand Grenades to say: "What the f***?!? Those are rattlesnake skin shoes! You just ruined them!" and then kick him in the face as he bends over to shine them, unbidden.
Your Own Personal Skeezer
There were only two tourists on that particular block and, as the fat guy bent down to hustle the one that he had force-sprayed; another skeezer approached his buddy and begged him for money.
Your own personal skeezer.
Tease A Skeezer
Another couple of them on the next block up called to me as I walked past: "Come here!"
I never "come here." If they want to talk to me so badly, they can get off their ass and walk over to me.
I decided to humor them; mostly because I was in the mood to make a snide comment or otherwise ridicule them.
They asked me if I wanted to buy 5 dollars worth of weed.
I suppose they wanted me to hand them the money and then expect them to be right back with it.
Oh, I'm all set on weed. I just picked up a dime; now I'm on my way to get some liquor; and then to my friends house to party..." I said.
Then the skeezer; who, up until that point had weed (sure he did) for sale; followed me for almost two blocks; begging me to smoke some with him.
"No, this stuff is really good; it was 20 bucks a gram," I said, continuing to tease him.
"Besides, I need to run to Rouses and pick up a fifth of Crown (Royal whiskey) and I'm running late," I added, upping the tease.
He then changed his tack; perhaps thinking that if I was partying in such style that maybe that is my style, and that I might be a good "friend" to have around.
He smiled and said "That's cool; I was just asking..." ...maybe another night when you're not in such a hurry...
Tuesday was as forgettable a day as there could be.
To say that things were "slow" would be an insult to snails everywhere.
An hour and a half of busking at Lilly's in the early evening produced no money.
I went and traded food off my card for a couple beers at a certain store, then found a couple almost full drinks outside Pat (no outside drinks allowed) O' Briens, which I presented to Leslie, who was at his apartment, broke and sober and with "nothing to do."
Sidebar:
 |
| The young lady (right) who spit on me after I had called her and her friend "dog skeezers" after saying: "Are you trying to insinuate that I am using my dog to make money, when I just don't want to leave him in an abandoned building all night?!?" Now "flies" a sign which reads "Pet my dog $1," by the way. |
Leslie's "energy check" didn't arrive Tuesday, due to the holiday(?).
It is supposed to go towards his electricity bill; but he uses it for beer money instead, opting to use as little electricity as possible to balance the difference.
The check will most likely come today, in the afternoon mail, and so "we" will have drinking money tonight. He has a job interview at 4 p.m. and will have to abstain until that is over.
My food card should be charged with 180 dollars at 5 o'clock tomorrow morning, giving additional security; should I have another zero dollar night (I have had only 3 in the past 2 years here).
Leslie will get 90 dollars on Saturday for selling his; giving additional security; should I have another zero dollar night on Friday...
The lack of tourists had a global effect throughout the Quarter last night.
People on Bourbon Street each had their own personal skeezer, as the numbers were pretty much equal between the two factions.
Where You Got Your Shoes
I saw two well dressed gentlemen, one of whom was holding a cup of what looked like Abita beer, being accosted by the "shoe" guy.
He is a 300 pound black man (more fat than muscle) who arrests the progress of tourists and bets them 20 (or 100, depending upon his discretion) dollars if he can tell them "where you got your shoes."
If they take him up on the bet, he will tell them either "You got your shoes on the sidewalk on Bourbon Street in New Orleans, Louisianna," or "You got one on your left foot and one on your right foot!"
He is hoping that they will chuckle and say: "You got us!" and hand over the money.
He has been known to become aggressive and violent and yell "You made a bet, now I want my money!" when he is drunk enough, and he senses weakness.
The police are actively trying to catch him practicing his "hustle" (scam).
When he actually tried me once (I didn't have my backpack nor guitar on me, and might have been a tourist) I pointed out his grammatical error; to wit:
He did not say "I bet I can tell you where you have got your shoes," to which the answer could be "on the sidewalk," but rather "where you got (i.e. acquired) your shoes."
That's a big (300 pound) difference...
One group of tourists walked past him as he was working another group the other night, and one of them yelled "Don't do it; it's a scam! I'm calling the police now!" as he poked at his cell phone.
The shoe man said: "You got me!" and held his hands up in the air like he was under arrest.
Another thing that shoe man will do is produce a spray bottle and bend over and spray some kind of liquid onto the shoes of the tourist, unbidden, and then start to polish them.
His reasoning is probably that; once the whatever-it-is is on his shoe; he will not want to continue walking around with it wet; and will hold still while fatso wipes it off; after which fatso will insist upon payment for services rendered (20 dollars a "shine").
I am just waiting for some ex-college-football-player of a tourist, who has had one too many Hand Grenades to say: "What the f***?!? Those are rattlesnake skin shoes! You just ruined them!" and then kick him in the face as he bends over to shine them, unbidden.
Your Own Personal Skeezer
There were only two tourists on that particular block and, as the fat guy bent down to hustle the one that he had force-sprayed; another skeezer approached his buddy and begged him for money.
Your own personal skeezer.
Tease A Skeezer
Another couple of them on the next block up called to me as I walked past: "Come here!"
I never "come here." If they want to talk to me so badly, they can get off their ass and walk over to me.
I decided to humor them; mostly because I was in the mood to make a snide comment or otherwise ridicule them.
They asked me if I wanted to buy 5 dollars worth of weed.
I suppose they wanted me to hand them the money and then expect them to be right back with it.
Oh, I'm all set on weed. I just picked up a dime; now I'm on my way to get some liquor; and then to my friends house to party..." I said.
Then the skeezer; who, up until that point had weed (sure he did) for sale; followed me for almost two blocks; begging me to smoke some with him.
"No, this stuff is really good; it was 20 bucks a gram," I said, continuing to tease him.
"Besides, I need to run to Rouses and pick up a fifth of Crown (Royal whiskey) and I'm running late," I added, upping the tease.
He then changed his tack; perhaps thinking that if I was partying in such style that maybe that is my style, and that I might be a good "friend" to have around.
He smiled and said "That's cool; I was just asking..." ...maybe another night when you're not in such a hurry...
I can't believe you have so much more interest in the skeezing life with Leslie, than in getting back together with Karrie, making a decent place for you both to camp - out of other skeezers' wandering range - and working up a musical act with Karrie. That would get you enough to get a real place to live. And you know, Karrie being female and all, she has far more appeal than a skeezy ol' alcoholic like Leslie. Any non-skeezer would know that.
ReplyDeleteKarrie, and yourself, working with Social Services, could probably get into a place, largely or totally subsidized, because it's two of the skeeze persuasion off of the street. Musical acts seem to work a lot better there when it's more than one person, and being female helps too.
But you're turning away from this to skeeze it up with Leslie.