Lilly, My Heroine

Monday night, I had arrived pretty early at the Lilly Pad.

In fact, it was just about a quarter past ten, a time that, a long time ago, cops would ride the length of Bourbon Street, on horses usually, to inform all the street performers of the "curfew," on such things.

It would take about 20 minutes for them to reach the Lilly Pad.

There was even a time, 4 years ago now, when I would duck out of sight around 20 minutes past ten to let them trot their course, before I jumped on the spot and started to play. They would never return; it was like it was their last duty to end their shift.

Last night, a State Police van stopped in front of me at about 10:18 PM, with the large white guy behind the wheel asking me if I lived "there."

I told him no, but that my lady friend did.

He just shook his head and said: "You can't play in front of anyone's house."

I started to explain that Lilly had taken certain measures such as checking with the neighbors and having gotten some kind of interpretation of the ordinance to the effect that a property owner, who could by all means sit on her own stoop and play her guitar, could allow a friend to do the same, as an extension of themselves.

He just shook his head and waited there for me to pack up my stuff. I didn't think of dialing up Lilly right then; I didn't think I could trust my phone to not break up and make it sound like she was cussing him out, or something.

But, it had been one of the State cops. That was kind of odd.

The city cops have been riding by several times a night and not bothering me for something like 3 years now.


I texted Lilly after he left, who replied: "Call me and put the cop on the phone."

To late. I thought about riding around trying to find him sitting somewhere messing with his computer, or eating a doughnut, and then gettin Lilly on the phone and trying to pass it to him.

I'm not sure how this situation will pan out. I'm not sure if I should be freaking out, or if I am beyond freaking out in life, in general.

Milly vs. Lilly

It crossed my mind that the girl who was playing the violin under the lamp post not far from my spot the other night might have had something to do with it.

She is fairly young and attractive and it is easy to imagine a friendly cop taking a passing interest in the well being of a young lady who plays her violin at all hours of the night.

If the girl had ever been harassed, and had ever called upon that particular cop, he might now periodically stop to check up on her to see if everything is alright -to check her out...

She might have told him about me, and how I said that buskers are technically not allowed to play in the residential blocks unless they have permission, and that I did, etc.

She might have asked him if there was such a thing.

He could have checked the law and taken it "prima facie," unaware of the extenuating circumstances that Lilly had somehow brought to bear upon the regular city cops on my behalf.

From what I gathered, the State cops are on hand to kind of reinforce the city ones, and to basically be on hand if something really heavy goes down.
The timing was just unusual between my having run off "Milly," and the appearance of the cop.

Give up all this for California?!?

I should probably just go back and play tomorrow night, after giving Lilly a heads-up, and, if the trooper wants to arrest me, he will have to call the city cops, and hopefully whomever the sergeant is will be (all too) familiar with Lilly and things wouldn't go any further.

There is, though, the nagging issue of an "attachment" that I have had the past 4 years in the Parish of Jefferson, which is across the river and is where I had gotten a trespassing violation on the rail yard.

I had hopped a train, trying to go to California, I guessed.

Since the story kind of goes in a circle, I will tell it this way:

I got on a bus across the street from the library in the late afternoon, and took it out to nearby Oliver Yard.

I hopped on a train in that yard, after having waited for nightfall, and found one that had its locomotive idling with the headlight on, and that looked like it might be going to California, because it was facing that way.

The train started moving at about 5:30 AM.

"Cool," I thought. By the time it was light enough for anyone to perhaps notice a guy hunting around for an open boxcar, I would be in motion, doing 75 miles per hour, and headed for California, I guessed.

The train went across the Mississippi River, and at about 8:00 AM, stopped.

I had found a car carrying unit which had no cars in it. just a wide, flat floor. I had my sleeping bag spread out, and was reading a newspaper that I had grabbed. I wondered if there was anything in it about California.

I had food to munch on, and cigarettes, and it was probably a couple beers that was on my mind by the time noon rolled around without the train having rolled at all.

I had a strong suspicion that the train was going to sit where it was for 8 hours. I imagined a conductor having called in sick, or perhaps the one who was driving the thing having to park and ostensibly sleep for 8 hours before continuing on.

I was just that, after 5 hours of not moving (by about 1 PM), I figured that it was not going to move for 8 hours, it seemed like the next logical unit of time.

So, planning upon running to the nearest store to grab a few things and then returning as quickly as possible to the nice open and empty car carrier, I got off it at about 1:30 PM.

At about 1:30 PM plus 30 seconds, after I had gotten maybe 100 yards, the railroad cop made his first appearance of the day.

Lilly Pad In Jeopardy

He was initially a hard ass.
 
They had been having trouble with people breaking into the car carrier units and stealing the stereos, tires, rims, engines maybe...I don't know...out of the cars being carried, to California, I guess.

They also had had problems with hobos hot-wiring the things, so they could run the motors with the stereo and air conditioners cranked, all the way to California. The brand new cars were arriving with full ashtrays, roach burns in the seats, empty gas tanks and empty beer cans on their floors (with their stereos tuned to the Bluegrass station?).

After I let him search my backpack for car stereos, or whatever, and talked to him for a while "Usually we don't try to stop people from leaving; one less problem for us..." he was amenable to letting me go with a citation for trespassing. The train began to move as he was writing it. Had I stayed on it for 5 more minutes, I might be writing this from Long Beach, or something...

He told me where I could catch the bus which would end up depositing me, 24 hours later, right back across the street from the same library, from where I had left "for California."

But, the fact that I have never taken a good chunk of a day to go to the courthouse to have them set a date for me when, I have been told, I could spend a good chunk of another day to go there and have the charges dismissed, means that it would show up, and the State cop could arrest me; if he does everything "by the book."

I wouldn't want to embarrass Lilly by having her going to bat for me and arguing the finer points of the statute which defines "property" in the French Quarter, etc., only to have the cop say: "Well, it doesn't really matter, because he's going to jail, anyways..."

So, I guess that is the big news. For the moment, at least, I have had my sole source of income snatched away from me.

Hopefully Lilly can talk to someone, who can talk to the state cop in such a way that it isn't presented as me "bucking" his authority.

And hopefully the cop isn't sweet on Milly the violin/cleavage-ist, and trying to be her hero.

It's time for me to supplicate Lilly, my heroine, for aid.

 
Coming Soon: Is Something Happening To Jacob?

My friend Jacob, who had always seemed to be a creature of habit, has seemingly fallen out of the habit of visiting me.

It remains to be seen if this is due to outside influences.

He brought me an ounce of kratom Saturday night, but just slid it under my door with a note saying that he didn't want to "bring me down" and so, didn't visit.

I don't know how that situation is going to pan out, either.