Back in the day I could party -- or so I told myself. Wasn't into full-on debauchery, unless by occasional mistake. And by debauchery I mean drinking on an empty stomach and discovering that was a recipe for a godawful stew traveling the wrong direction. Last night I ventured into the Quarter for some night shots, as my visit would be short and I wanted some of those. Wow. Bourbon Street was humming at a level I don't recall ever seeing. Perhaps it was pent-up vim from the pandemic. Perhaps it was just human nature spilling out in all its glorious insanity. I should have made a recording: it was deafening. The shouting. The laughter. The strained smiles, the sloppy drunk girl tipping over in the street and wrecking her already abominable green brides-maid dress. Whatever it was, I've come to one undeniable conclusion: I am old, or at least,
too old for that.