I don't work on Mardi Gras

I knew a guy who made that statement anytime he applied for a job. Needless to say he never really worked. The painting company I am working for is swamped with work, in fact a few extra people have been hired on. So today we started off to work and gave up on the one job site on Esplenade in the Quarter. Thick sluggish traffic being detoured around parade routes and streets cluttered with  float traffic and dim witted drunks stepping in front of cars without even glancing up. The only way I could describe the entire City of New Orleans to New Jersians would be imagine Seaside Heights on a Fourth Of July weekend.



Beneath the overpasses on Claiborne large crowds flowed towards countless Bar B Qs as the music took on an eerie sound echoeing under the traffic of I-10. Every route that we tried to navigate was lined with brightly costumed groups of liquored up revelers who obviously don't work on Mardi Gras either. We were trying in vein to get caught up on jobs. Deciding that working in the French Quarter was out of the question today, we slowly headed to a painting and siding job uptown. While working, a surprised home owner stuck her head out and proclaimed "Oh, your:e working TODAY? It's Mardi Gras..." "Yea, well, we're Yankees, so here we are."

There are many people who are working today in New Orleans, bartenders, servers, cab drivers, cops and emergancy workers.  I know what they are going through having driven cab on the Jersey Shore for five years. Tomorrow they will wake up exhuasted, aching and with a hatred for humanity.

We were going to run an errand to the Post Office, but they don't work on Mardi Gras either. 

My first Mardi Gras Parade

Tonight I return from my first Mardi Gas parade. After hearing about it for the past 12 months and seeing how this city and it's population are dependent on this season, I had to go. Like a drunk working til Friday every year, New Orleans can finally cum on itself.  Three parades on right after the other tonight.

Bobby and I were joking today about the ladders. There are some die hard parade fans who make it a family event. One tradition is a small open sided box mounted on ladders. Parents bring them along to the parade, and set them up along the parade route. They place very young children into the boxes above the heads of the rest of the crowd so their two year old can catch the best throws.

Bobby commented "Let's see, you're going to place your toddler in a box, nailed to the top of an eight foot ladder, on an uneven sidewalk surrounded by drunks..." I added "THEN you encourage drunks on floats to throw a handfuls of plastic beads at your kid's face. Might as well just put the kid over a dunk tank with a toaster in his lap." Perhaps it's just us being from Jersey, we think this way.

To be honest, I've been dragging heals about going to a parade, it's just me. I hate crowds and dislike drunks, add a lot of walking and spending money to that combination to see why I put it off. Today I had a business meeting in the Quarter and a parade got in the way. So for the sake of this blog and being able to say I went to a parade, I went. I don't drink, however while on Bourbon Street I got downwind of "the wrong crowd."  Second hand smoke, I swear. Really. I was down wind of them from Toulouse to Canal. Caught a buzz. Anyways, that made me want to see a parade. I walked along the St Charles line looking more at the crowd than the parade. It was like watching the religious holiday of a shoe fetish cult.

How did I like my first parade? It was ok.

Putting a face on Mardi Gras

If I had to describe Mardi Gras to the folks back in Jersey, I'm not sure I could. The entire Gulf Coast celebrate this season with passion and reverence as the Jersey Shore does with the start of summer. Imagine Memorial Day, Labor Day and Christmas all with in a couple of months.  Locals are a tight group down here, all share the joys of Carnival season and the fears of hurricane season. Someone tried to explain to me how the season starts and ends each year, all depends on when Fat Tuesday falls. 

This Mardi Gras poster is by artist Peter O'Neill who has completed several Carnival themed paintings for his New Orleans gallery. Peter says he enjoys painting for his NOLA gallery. I look forward to his Facebook postings of his latest work, great stuff. Mr. O'Neill said he's going to take four weeks off after I commented on how prolific he has been in the past few weeks.  Here is his web site to view more of his work, or to order a copy of his Mardi Gras poster.

www.oneillgallery.com

Enjoy your time off Peter.

"Bourbon Street and Beyond"

I got permission (kind of) to publish a tiny bit of the Quarter Rat book "Bourbon Street and Beyond" on line. If I had to choose one story as a favorite it would be this one. Perhaps because I have done mascot work before. One summer I had a job dressing up as a Seagull on the Seaside Heights boardwalk. Jersey's version of Bourbon Street. I hope you enjoy the sneak peek at the book, it will be up on Amazon.com, and available through out the French Quarter in time for Mardi Gras.

Two Queens and a Joker
An almost love story by: Jay Slusher

When I moved to New Orleans in the mid-90s my first job was at a club famous for its 190-proof, melon-flavored drink. They’re also famous for their mascot who dressed up in a heavy fiberglass suit with a full face of Styrofoam and a helmet. Part of my job was keeping drunks from beating on him. It was nerve wracking. I had to watch the door, the floor, and him. Needless to say, I got in a lot of shit.
Back in the day we had reps from the cigarette company come out and give away free smokes to the customers and employees on weekends. We had Winston and this one girl Gretchen. She was really hot for a merchant of death, let me tell ya. We talked about going out a couple of times.

Well, this particular night the mascot guy, named Chris, decided to drop a couple of hits of acid before he got into his suit. I’m at the door talking to Gretchen when I notice a commotion outside. Gretchen is just starting to write her number down, and I see these two drag queens beating the shit out of Chris. I’m talking two six-feet-tall black guys in heels, wigs, and mini-skirts. One of them is getting in some really good shots with a fanny pack with a brick in it. (Little known fact: NOPD doesn’t consider that a weapon. A lot of homeless people carry them.)

I got the real story from the Lucky Dog guy later that night (one of my network of spies and informants).
When the queens came by Chris says, “What’s up, dudes?”
One of the queens replied, “Say what, motherfucker?”
“You heard me, sir. How are you gentlemen doing this evening?”
They go ballistic. Chris is tripping his face off. So, I push Gretchen off and run out to break up the fight. It got rough, I got hit a couple of times, but finally I got that stupid fanny pack away. I hauled off and decked both of them, and they backed off.

I haul Chris to the courtyard where he fell out in the suit, tripping hard. His helmet was all twisted around, babbling incoherently. He couldn’t get up in that suit, so I left him there, face against a keg, hallucinating like a motherfucker. Now, I’ve had some absurd moments in my life but breaking up a fight between two drag queens and a guy in a Hand-Grenade suit is definitely up there.

I get back in the bar and Gretchen and the other, not as hot cigarette rep, are gone. I ask Jimmy the bartender what happened. He says they got scared during the fight and left. Well, shit! I look down on the ground and there’s the piece of paper with her name and the first three digits of her number on it. Double shit! Of course, I never saw her again. I left Chris in the courtyard until we closed; immobilized and tripping balls. Then to add insult to injury, I hosed him down just to help me ease the pain of the phone number lost.

Here's something that you don't see everday...

At least a few times a week you see something like this down here. In this Youtube video we see a wedding parade suddenly appear down Royal Street complete with a police escort and a band.  It's a great quality to this town, a chance of finding yourself caught up in the middle of a parade are about as likely as getting caught up in a rain storm.  For a fee, one can apply for a parade permit,  designated routes and times.  I'm sure it costs a few bucks, but it does come with a couple of cops stopping traffic for your party. I worked a couple of these parades as a Reveler and a Big Head. Fun job. 

Look for it soon

Here is the latest. Look for it in finer French Quarter establishments in time for Mardi Gras.

Bourbon Street Tease

"Welcome to the Big Show. Grab your artillery and let’s whoop today’s ass! File rank and gear up. Shotgirls and Strippers, Barkeeps and Barkers please report to the front lines. This is the battlefield known as Bourbon Street, where heroes are made and brain cells are lost. You take your post amongst the madness." 


Excerpt from the Quarter Rat book that I am illustrating.  I'll keep all of you posted on it's due date.

Just completed these...

 

"Little Person, Big Waste"

This book I am illustrating is a compilation of stories about living in and working in the French Quarter of New Orleans. A relatively small neighborhood known world wide and respected by other cities of leisure.  Only in this town can a passed out dwarf in a window sill could become and overnight shrine to the patron Saint of Pushing the limits.

I know this book will appeal not only to those who live and work in the Quarter, but with bring laughter to anyone who has worked as a waitress, bartender, bouncer or manager in the service industries.  As a Jersey Shore cab driver I know that assholes are universal.

Six Flags at half mast

Six Flags over New Orleans closed for hurricane Katrina and never reopened. Here is a rather creepy and depressing video of how it looks today. It's scheduled to be demolished next year. Until I moved down here and could view the area in person I never realized how extensive the damage was, and is. I know coming from another part of the country the Gulf Coast destruction is "out of sight, out of mind." 

There are so many areas and structures that still hold the scars of damage and water marks. The people too still carry the memories and trauma of the event. It looks like the Gulf Coast has managed to get through this last hurricane season without as much as a threat. Some of the locals admit, every hurricane season brings with it anxiety, and a little rush of excitement. 

Here in New Orleans locals are already planning and anticipating Mardi Gras. These folks live for it. A Yat can tell you exactly what they wore, who they were with, and what they drank for every Mardi Gras going back four decades. The rest of the country is preparing for the Christmas season, down here that holiday takes the back seat to Carnival season.  Christmas? Leave that for the rest of the world, it's kind of lame.

How'd Halloween weekend go?

It was a madhouse. Locals said it was as insane as Mardi Gras. Between the holiday and the Steelers getting their asses kicked the adrenaline was making the streets slippery. As much as I praise this city, make no mistake, it's hardcore gangster land.  The touristy French Quarter draws in predators like a beach filled with Sea Lions attracts sharks.

Shortly before 7 p.m., two men, both visitors from Arizona, were slashed on St. Peter Street near the Mississippi River in the French Quarter. The pair became embroiled in an argument with a group consisting of two men and two women. One suspect cut one victim on the arm with an unknown object. The second victim was hit in the eye with a brick, according to police.


Two men were wounded by gunfire in Mid-City on Saturday night. The shooting occurred shortly before 9 in the 3000 block of Bienville Street. The men, both 24, were sitting in front of a house when gunshots rang out. One man was shot in the foot; the other received a graze wound to the left arm. They were later listed in stable condition.


A 23-year-old Marine who lived in Metairie was fatally stabbed following an argument with a man who defamed the Marine's wife. The suspect yelled derogatory comments at Ryan Lekosky's wife as the couple walked about 3:30 a.m. near the intersection of Dauphine and Iberville streets in the French Quarter, police said. Lekosky tried to intervene in the altercation between his wife and the suspect. The suspect turned on Lekosky, stabbing him several times. The suspect then returned to his vehicle and drove away on Dauphine Street, toward Canal Street. Lekosky died from his wounds.


Shortly after 1 a.m. Monday, a 20-year-old man was shot in the 100 block of Bourbon Street. New Orleans police Monday night identified a teenager who they believe was involved in the shooting. A warrant for attempted second-degree murder has been issued for 19-year-old Latrell Coleman. Eighth District officers were in the 100 block of Bourbon Street breaking up a fight when they heard shots fired within the block. Officers then located the victim lying in the street with a gunshot wound to the head.


Brendan McCarthy, The Times-Picayune 

Saints beat the Steelers 20 - 10.

I'll sit this one out...

Halloween is a big deal down here. Everything is as long as they can dress up and drink heavily to it. Look how fun New Orleans can make a funeral.  The city is recent years with the help of Blaine Kern's float den has been promoting NOLA for the pagan ritual. The infrastructure is here, the coolest cemeteries, the most haunted houses, vampires, voodoo rituals and bars.

I always dug Halloween driving cab.  It broke up the monotony, naughty little girls in Catholic school girl uniforms flashing you at 2 am because they need a cab. Tonight I was invited to hang with Waffle. Remember Waffle? He's the one who talked me into moving to New Orleans. I'm feeling under the weather lately. As much as I would love to enjoy the city wide freak out between Halloween and the Steelers being in town, I am not up for it.




I'm old, I need to pace myself in this town, or I won't make it to see my first Mardi Gras.

The New Orleans Bingo! Show

Here's a show I hope to catch one day. Looks fun and unique.

Street performing ain't easy....

I keep saying that I am going to get back over to the Quarter on a regular basis to juggle. Hats off to those guys, it takes balls to do this everyday for a living. A lot of the musicians hawk DVDs for $10 and play clubs at night. Get hassled by asshole drunken tourists. Just like driving a cab at night on the Jersey Shore.

Only one time did I ever have a problem with another performer. A balloon bender claimed I was on HIS corner. I replied "AND?...) Even I'm not afraid of a guy with a balloon poodle on his head.

For the record I AM NOT A MIME, I am a juggler.

Double Take

A friend shot me an e-mail from a casting company looking for a double for an actor. A double is someone of same height, build and appearance of the principal actor. Setting up a camera shot can take a long time to get lighting and blocking right. A stand in takes the place of a principal during the set up so the actor can remain in his or her comfortable dressing room until the director is ready to shoot.


When I worked Memphis beat, both stand in actors looked or were shaped nothing like the principals they were filling in for. The stand in for Jason lee is about 5 inches shorter and 40 pounds heavier than Jason, and with less hair than my ass. He must be some one's brother in law.  The e mail that I was sent had a photo of the actor Miguel Ferrer. Photo double needed, 6'1" medium build. I saw the e mail and thought "Yea, so? Why did you send it to me?"

A couple hours later my friend asked if they called me yet? "Who? About what?" Oh that. If you think so. I sent a photo in and with in 10 minutes received a call back. They asked for a most recent photo to forward to the director. I didn't get the photo double work but did get a call back for background work. Just as well. Even though stand in work is a step up from background with a little better pay and better food, I was happy with just background.


I ran into a number of background extras that I knew, all said it's been really slow for the past couple of months.  I ended up coming in late because of being contacted last minute. That was fine, I spoke with a buddy there who said they had sat in holding for the past 3 hours and hadn't been to the set. About 3 or 4 backgrounds came up to me and commented that I was a good stand in for Miguel. "But I didn't get the part." "Really? Ya kiddin? You kinda look like him"  Yea, well it's a cold heartless business.


We sat from 9pm until about 2:30 am until we were brought out to the casino. This scene was being shot at Harrah's. The second second assistant director (very sweet young lady) sat me and a couple of other backgrounds at a roulette wheel. The real casino dealer gave us each about $100 in practice chips and we started to play. He was cool and explained the game to us since none of us had ever played roulette. About 20 minutes passed as I waited to hear "BACKGROUND ACTION."


To my surprise the 2nd 2nd A.D. yelled "It's a wrap, thank you everybody." They had shot 3 takes with the actors and a steady cam and we never even knew they were filming. All of us were paid $100 cash and sent home. I had taken the ferry over to Harrah's and it wasn't running again until 6:00 am back to the West Bank where I live. What can I do in New Orleans at 3:00 in the morning with a $100 in my pocket? Ok, one beer.


I am proud of myself. On the walk down Canal Street I had three prostitutes asked if I was looking for fun. "No thanks honey" and I kept walking. I see this as a sign of personal growth. One beer later I looked at my watch and it was only 3:30 am.  I had trouble finishing my beer and just wanted to be home. I splurged on a $20 cab ride just to go to bed. 


Oh yea, the film is called THE COURIER

Hey, Waffle....

Have any suggestions for Halloween? What are your plans?

Night of the Zombie Tourists

Here is an illustration I finished for the Quarter Rat Publication.

Southern Decadence Weekend

Southern Decadence Weekend in New Orleans. The French Quarter exactly. The difference between the Quarter and Greenwich Village is that the Quarter is a little less expensive and a lot less pretentious. The music is better down here too, my main gripe about hanging out with gay dudes up North is that they start to sing those damn show tunes when they get loaded.

 

In New Orleans, it's tough to offend people. Every life style, quirk, fetish, choice and hairstyle is tolerated here. The oldest city in America was settled by 'Pirates, Whores and Thieves', being just Gay doesn't even register on the double take meter. This weekend, a few hundred thousand gay men have come into town to party. The gay guys don't bother me, it's those nerds that are here the rest of the year who think that they're Vampires that I don't trust.

A few blocks on Bourbon Street has been openly gay for decades, long before it was as acceptable as it is today. "The Bourbon Pub is New Orleans’ largest gay nightclub. Operating continuously since 1974, it is the epicenter of the New Orleans gay and lesbian community, and is located at the corner of Bourbon and St. Ann Streets."

While drawing the above cartoon I was thinking about the gay and lesbian community. It takes a lot of balls for a person to come out of the closet and be openly gay. Despite changes in thinking, odds are most family members will reject you, neighbors will gossip and co-workers will snicker. In some areas of this nation, being openly homosexual is just asking for an ass kicking. Insecure heterosexual men find a false masculinity in abusing men secure in their sexuality.

So hats off to Southern Decadence for courage, style and great dance moves.

www.southerndecadence.net

An artist remembered

Back in New Jersey a funeral is treated as a period to someone's life. In New Orleans, funerals and services are treated like exclamation points. I was invited to a party by Miss Mardi Gras to celebrate the life of renowned float builder Raul Bertuccelli. The party was held in Blaine Kern's float den in Algiers. The hundred or so attendees enjoyed the open bar, gumbo and fire works surrounded by some of the most magnificent floats one could imagine.





Not yet having experienced a carnival season since I moved to New Orleans, this was a great chance for me to examine the art up close. The warehouse or "den" was a gallery of huge pieces of art that many don't get to view up close. As a painter, sculptor, cartoonist and sign maker, the floats held my attention all night. I was walking around like a kid with A.D.D. in a casino. Not many pieces of art can be towed down the street with dozens of people standing on top of it flinging beads. We tried it once at one of my art opening and things got ugly.

I'm still trying to wrap my head around the carnival since moving here. The rest of the world view the Mardi Gras as drunken decedent parades involving costumes and breasts. Mardi Gras is more than that, it's a mindset, an attitude that keeps this city breathing. The ugly racial tensions of NOLA are kept at bay with carnival. Residents return storm after storm to be healed by it.




A former float sculptor after seeing my artwork suggested I might pursue employment in the industry. Larger than life cartoonish figures, scathing political and social satire punctuated by voluptuous cleavage and sensuality. Art galleries seem so tiny, dull and boring in comparison now.





Parades and festivals in other cities are created for local merchants to make a buck. In New Orleans many individuals spend thousands of dollars to be a part of Krewes and partake in the season. It's not and industry or marketing ploy, Mardi Gras is a mass spiritual experience for the city and it's people. Raul Bertuccelli was like a church architect designing impressive structures to create awe and spectacle in the eyes of the parishioners.

Bad Decisions

Bad decisions, nothing will make me laugh out loud when I'm by myself more than when I think about all of the bad decisions I have made. Bad decisions when it came to money. Bad decisions of who I associated myself with. Bad decisions of careers. Bad decisions.

I decided to change my life and reinvent myself to be one who makes the right choices when I moved. I moved from Jersey to ground zero of the world's worst ecological disaster a month before it happens. Good decision. Really, I love this city, love these people. I made the right decision. My friend in Seattle said. "Wow, you had to move front row center to the end of the world." "Yea, New Orleans has been chosen to be the host city of the Apocolypse, that's cooler than the Olympics."


In the past three months I have been homeless sleeping in a car, I've rubbed elbows with TV stars. I got to be a twelve foot high Jester leading a parade down Bourbon Street. I've gotten to be a street performer in the French Quarter. I've smoked up with Asian gang members. I had U.S. Marshals point weapons at me, handcuff me and run me down to Orleans Parish Prison. I've walked the same streets as pirates, artists and musicians have for hundreds of years. I've made great friends. Like Waffle and Dr Maad.


Moving to New Orleans, the best decision I ever made.

.

Treme

I finally got to see episode one of HBO's TREME. My friend was a background extra in a few scenes. He also was back in New Orleans soon after Katrina. He said that the show really nails the tragedy. What happened, what it looked like, and how residents felt. The shock, the depression and anger. The producer of the show has lived in the city for 20 years and has done justice in the show.

To hear the survivors speak of the months after Katrina is akin to listening to those who pulled themselves from the rubble of a war. In fact during the show my buddy commented on the helicopter sound effects in the background. Day in and day out. Choppers, diesel trucks and the National Guard gave New Orleans the feel of an occupied city. Stench of mold, rotting food, the corpses of pets and destruction remained long after the TV news cameras left.

This is my fourth month in New Orleans, I can't imagine ever leaving it. What you see in Treme is close to what you will find here. The music, the food the people. My friend's favorite line from the first episode "Don't know how not to Mardi Gras." It's the spirit of the city.