New Orleans: Halloween Lasts A Month But Everyone Looks Weird All Year
Since we last interneted together I have been to New Orleans and back. Oh, it was a great journey. One that was filled with what I believe to be some kind of skin mites (temporary!!) and lots of food from the dumpster. Guys, it was a great time. You’re reading this all wrong.
A couple of friends and myself went to go visit our old pal Alex who moved away from Atlanta to the swamp lands of Louisiana to live the sweet life of sweating profusely for 85% of the year. But when we visited, the weather was what I think heaven might be like if heaven was 76 degrees with a light breeze and the scent of rosemary in the air. We rode bikes around town like little kids without parents. We drank daiquiris for dinner. We roamed around in graveyards and abandoned hospitals. I didn’t take a full-body shower the entire time I was there. It was one of the best vacations of my life.
My dear friend Alex lives in a house with a bunch of crust punks. If you don’t know what a crust punk is, allow me to explain.
A crust punk looks like what you might think scabies would be if it were a 16-45 year old person. Crusties’ entire bodies are essentially the same color; their skin, their clothes, their hair, their teeth — it’s all some version of brown or green. Boy crust punks like to wear coveralls even though they’re not working on anything and girl crust punks like to wear…just…layers and layers of scraps of old rags that mostly cover up the midsections of their bodies. Add some gauged ears, no honest income, and a flea infested pet of some kind and there you have it! Plus they hate the government, but who doesn’t these days, amma’right???
Having said all of that, I do have friends that are crust punks. Or at least they used to be. Then they all moved to Alaska and built their own houses and only eat food that they grow or catch on their own land. When you do anything productive like that you lose your crust punk card. You can decided to not shower all you want, but the moment you start to build a house to raise your family in, you’re just adorable. No longer a Crustie. Sorry.
But, I always live and let live. As Gully said in my most favorite movie of all time, Harriet the Spy: “There are as many ways to live as there are people in this world, and each one deserves a closer look.”
I’ve looked close enough in to the crust punk way of life. I didn’t like what I saw or smelled, and I didn’t like the way it made my head itch.
But New Orleans isn’t all crust punks and plastic necklaces, although there are a lot of them. We were lucky enough to be there for Halloween so it was a huge masked celebration for the entire weekend. I think the moment I will remember with the most warmth and tenderness is when we were all riding home from the French Quarter on Halloween night: I on the back of a tandem bicycle in a too-short blue dress holding a plastic lime green “hand grande” adult beverage and yelling at a passing car which turned out to be a cop. Please enjoy this photo of me on said night standing in front of a large jester head.
Anything goes in NoLA. That’s why the crust punks love it so goddamn much.
-
pizzagang liked this
-
oldmanasante liked this
-
xohollyhox posted this
