French Quarter Up All Night
9:40pm Bedtime. Change into our gowns and fire up the gas heater, to cut the chill in the room. Christmas lights shine through the window as we rock,rock,rock our way to sleep, sweet, sleep.
“Where are you going Frank?”
“What?”
“Frank, where are you going? Decatur’s this way!”
Voices raise up from the street below, the night begins.
12:40am Toot…Toooooot. It is getting closer, no, farther away…no definitely closer. The sandman has lost his grasp on this little apartment. Baby stares wide eyed up at me as the screech of metal-to-metal begins in the distance. Train must be stopping; I wonder where exactly the train is…baby replies ‘yawn.’ The train’s whistle sounds again and the baby is sound asleep. Revelers pass below once more, I put him down and tiptoe back to bed.
2:40am Houndog by Elvis plays on his personal stereo as Baby wails along. Breast milk like Chinese food from MoonWok, just two hours later we are hungry again. Wind gushes past our third floor balcony doors. Trees bow as another cold front whips through the Quarter. Somewhere in the distance, tinny chimes are being ravaged by the weather.
3:30am *cries*change me*cries*Mommy*cries*change me*cries.
“Hemorrhoids!”
Pick up Baby and transfer to the changing table.
“Hemorrhoids!”
Collect new diaper and wipes.
“Hemorrhoids!!”
Baby has only presented me with wet, easy clean up!
“Hemorrhoids!”
Hug Baby close to me as we walk around the room for comfort.
“Hemorrhoids!!!”
I wonder, does random yeller have hemorrhoids? Possibly, he just healed from a particularly nasty case of hemorrhoids. Maybe the drinking is a celebration of his healed nether regions. Maybe he is just crazy.
“Hemorrhoids!”
Yes, he is probably just crazy.
6:25 am The Sun is coming up. Rock,suck,rock,suck,rock,suck. Lights are still on in the apartment across the street. Don’t think she ever came home. Maybe she is a stripper, she kind of looks like a stripper. You could call her a dancer with a clear conscience, if she asked you to, she is cute enough. Pink begins to streak the sky above her apartment. Sun light brings a completely new life to the Quarter. A rebirth happens every morning as the Sun make it’s appearance.
Personally, Baby and I have survived another night on the edge of sanity, so now it seems we fit right in with the rest of the nighttime goings on.
Out on the streets and within the buildings, every morning the whole Quarter let’s out a big sigh as if to say ‘We made it through another night.’ As I look out, I feel a connection to the spirit of the French Quarter that I have never felt before. I cannot believe I was sleeping through all this. If we hang on, we will pull through and besides no one looks tired in the Quarter you just look like you had one Hell of a night, in a good way.
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Think of all the things this child will be able to sleep through the rest of his life. And you as well. Sleep, blessed sleep in the midst of cacaphony.
…and Carnival is only beginning.
Gas heater in the French Quarter? Hope you have a carbon monoxide alarm.
So a stripper lives across the street? or Brad & Angelina live across the street? (saw your name referenced in an article about them) or are you one of those locals who just LOVE claiming they know them, met them, had them over for dinner, etc… cuz wow, they’ve had dinner and or drinks with half the city if you believe all the lies coming out of New Orleans.