Too Many Murder Documentaries.
So, if we've ever had more than a 10 minute conversation, you may find out that I have a small obsession with murder documentaries-- and I love the show The First 48. I was actually watching that when I went to start writing this blog, but Cory made me change it because he's frankly tired of watching it and I don't frankly blame him for asking me to take a break.
This week, I worked a lot more than normal at The Ground Floor. I am hoping and praying that today was actually my last day there, and this week, as I travel for a job interview, I'll get that job and get back to a bit of normalcy [if you'd like to shoot up a prayer for me on Wednesday at about noon, I'd appreciate it]. Like I said in the post before, I've had some crazy, and really cool, things happen in the shop, but I forgot to mention some of the stuff I've seen and heard outside of the shop.
Just a few honorable mentions: this note, written on the sidewalk in front of the Cabildo [the NOPD stands for 'Not Our Problem Dude'], the insane amount of lime green Hand Grande cups left all over the street, the crazy puddles that you ALWAYS bystep, the street cleaners getting suds everywhere, a few people standing outside of the bar at 8:30 in the morning, standing outside of the shop and having a van pull up and ask "hey. I'm looking for models. You going on this model tour?", the guy riding his bike down the street, yelling his phone number out and telling me to be sure to call him later. The list is endless, but I'd like to tell you my two encounters that happened, why, just this week!
That bush is not a bathroom, sir.
So, I have actually seen my fair share of... puddles of bodily fluids all over the sidewalk in the 5 months that I've been walking around the Quarter. It's really gross, to be honest [if you can't tell already, this story is gross]. I got off the streetcar Wednesday and started to walk down Canal St. to get to work. Because of the Hard Rock Hotel debacle, I have to take a left at the Saenger Theater and walk a bit out of the way to get to work. I was crossing the street to walk alongside the Theater when I looked to my left and saw a man's head. Picture it: it's 9:45 in the morning, and as I'm crossing this major road, there is man in the bushes. Back to those murder documentaries, right? I panic a bit and start walking faster, making rapid eye movement looking for CCTV cameras I know dang well our crappy Mayor has not even thought about installing. So, I have a small look over my shoulder to see where said man in the bushes is, and ya'll, he's not coming after me. Whew. But, you know why he's not coming after me? Because he's taking a big ol number two in the bushes. I stumbled a bit, partly thankful that I'm safe for another day, partly horrified at what I've witnessed. I guess when you gotta go, you gotta go.
Oh no, she just got hit or something.
Monday, on my way to work, I like to pop into Starbucks on Canal St. to get a cup of coffee, thankful for the gift-cards I've been given. As I'm getting closer to the door, I see a group of people huddled around the front door, and I'm like "Dang. This line is going to be so long and I'm going to be late." But coffee is life, especially when it's free. I keep walking and the crowd parts a bit, and ya'll, there's a lady laying face down on the ground, and there's a yellow jacket on her head. I stopped. Surely, I'm not about to witness my own The First 48 episode in person, right? I panicked a bit as I got real close and the EMS shows up and pull out a stretcher. The fire department is now there and so is an officer, who is telling a guy "Sir. Please take a deep breath. You did everything you could to help." *insert panic here* I try to avert my eyes and pretend this scene isn't taking place, and walk into Starbucks, which is actually pretty empty. I get to the counter and the ladies working there are talking about what they're having for lunch (it's 8:20am). I make my order and ask "Did that lady pass out or something?", praying that's all that is happening, since I'm too scared to look again.
Barista: Oh, she just got hit by a car I think... probably because she wasn't paying attention and on her phone.
Me: Oh. Is she okay?
Barista: I don't know. -- continues her convo about lunch.
Thankfully ya'll, as I walked outside to go to work, she was very much alive and on the stretcher getting into the ambulance.
Just another week ya'll.
Stay tuned for a post about our first Mardi Gras as residents of this city. It's going to be good.
-B
This week, I worked a lot more than normal at The Ground Floor. I am hoping and praying that today was actually my last day there, and this week, as I travel for a job interview, I'll get that job and get back to a bit of normalcy [if you'd like to shoot up a prayer for me on Wednesday at about noon, I'd appreciate it]. Like I said in the post before, I've had some crazy, and really cool, things happen in the shop, but I forgot to mention some of the stuff I've seen and heard outside of the shop.
That bush is not a bathroom, sir.
So, I have actually seen my fair share of... puddles of bodily fluids all over the sidewalk in the 5 months that I've been walking around the Quarter. It's really gross, to be honest [if you can't tell already, this story is gross]. I got off the streetcar Wednesday and started to walk down Canal St. to get to work. Because of the Hard Rock Hotel debacle, I have to take a left at the Saenger Theater and walk a bit out of the way to get to work. I was crossing the street to walk alongside the Theater when I looked to my left and saw a man's head. Picture it: it's 9:45 in the morning, and as I'm crossing this major road, there is man in the bushes. Back to those murder documentaries, right? I panic a bit and start walking faster, making rapid eye movement looking for CCTV cameras I know dang well our crappy Mayor has not even thought about installing. So, I have a small look over my shoulder to see where said man in the bushes is, and ya'll, he's not coming after me. Whew. But, you know why he's not coming after me? Because he's taking a big ol number two in the bushes. I stumbled a bit, partly thankful that I'm safe for another day, partly horrified at what I've witnessed. I guess when you gotta go, you gotta go.
Oh no, she just got hit or something.
Barista: Oh, she just got hit by a car I think... probably because she wasn't paying attention and on her phone.
Me: Oh. Is she okay?
Barista: I don't know. -- continues her convo about lunch.
Thankfully ya'll, as I walked outside to go to work, she was very much alive and on the stretcher getting into the ambulance.
Just another week ya'll.
Stay tuned for a post about our first Mardi Gras as residents of this city. It's going to be good.
-B
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