Thursday, March 24, 2011

Inflict Pleasure

New Orleans is an eerie place at night. It might be the old buildings rumored to be the most haunted in America. No wonder so many films are shot here. I was invited to a fetish party Friday night at the Moulin View. Perfect night for it, a freakishly large moon hovering over the river as I stepped off of the Streetcar to walk to Lower Decatur. Warm weather and liquor filled the air. I wasn't sure what to expect, but I need to get past the touristy sections of town and find out what the natives do for fun.

A rather non descript black and white sign with three skulls marked the door to the dark club. Lower Decatur is kind of lurid to begin with. This is where the locals go. A bartender on Bourbon Street finishes his shift and need to tie one on with civil creatures that arent wearing beads and silly hats goes to Decatur. An imposing but friendly doorman greeted me and pointed out the hostess after I introduced myself. She was not what I expected, I don't know what I anticipated but it wasn't Andie.

She knew I was there to write and draw about the alternative scene in NOLA. Andie greeted me as if I was at an open house for a condo sale. Extremely bright, articulate, professional speaking college age woman who enthusiastically started to tell me about the purpose of the monthly gatherings.  From the spectating novice who are curious to the experienced players were welcomed. Apart from emotionally painful relationships, I would fall into the novice spectator.

Andie put me at ease, if everyone was as cool as her it should be a fun night. It wasn't nearly as bizzare as my mind had envisioned. Gothic dressed ladies from early twenties up to their fifties. Most of the men didn't put much effort into wardrobe, a few did. The theme this month was 'Gender Bender,' Gothy girls in corsets, ropes and men's dress shirts danced on the bar for most of the night, not for tips, but apparently for the fun of it.I wasn't sure if tipping was desired or would've been taken as an insult.

Interesting people, a fun feeling made it a very hip spot to be. Unlike Bourbon Street where sexuality is a commodity, on Lower Decatur it's an art form. The wait staff was extremely cool. drink prices the best I've found in New Orleans. Too good, by two AM I was plastered.

The festivities ended at five. I wondered out into a heavy river fog creating an atmosphere in the Quarter worthy of a vampire film. Unsettling to anyone with as little motor skills as mine. I was an easy mark for anyone who wanted to roll me for an empty wallet. I managed to stumble into the Clover Grill for safety and the perfect greasy breakfast to help me continue onto the streetcar line for the ride home. As I sat at the counter the cook kept turning around and glancing at me.

"Hey, aren't you the cartoonist for the Quarter Rat?" "Huh? Uhm, yea, I think so..." "I saw your photo in the Mardi Gras issue." I don't know if I like being recognized, I always thought that would be cool. I'm not sure now, if I make an ass of myself it might come back to bite me in the ass. By six am I was wading through knee deep garbage, slipping on the sidewalk covered with spilt drinks and vomit heading towards Canal.

I had escaped the darting silhouettes in the fog, for tonight.

No comments:

Post a Comment