Quarter to Seven

I had today off from house painting so I planned to devote it to the animation work. I went to bed about nine last night. Yea, nine. Up and about at six thirty this morning I went on a quest for coffee since my coffee maker is on the fritz. Soon as I hit my front gate  on Toulouse to leave I heard loud a twenty something girl screaming belligerently "The bitch stole my cell phone! I'm going to kick her in the C*NT!" She and her swirling group of four were knocking over garbage cans staggering away from an all nighter  on Bourbon Street. 

Across the street I spotted Hulse from our Quarter Rats @ Molly's video leaning on a garbage can on Toulouse.  I don't think he knew from where he recognized me from, but still was friendly. "So..whare ya comin from?" "I just woke up, I'm going for coffee."  He looked a little confused by the statement. "Wanna go for Irish Coffee?" "Uhm no thanks man, I'm just getting started, have a good night." 

I enjoy the French Quarter in the early morning hours, except for the few hard cores staggering home at day break, the Quarter is peaceful. The only ones stirring are the Quarter Rats, dragging out tons of garbage from the night before and hosing off the brick sidewalks from the indulgences of their customers. Careful where you step, every form of bodily fluid can be slipped upon, I mean every kind.  I have seen soiled condoms stuck on lamp posts. That ain't dog crap on the sidewalk, unless the dog was trained to wipe with a paper napkin from Krystal Burgers.

Truck drivers making early morning deliveries before the streets become congested with tourists and mule drawn guides. The locals in bathrobes walking tiny annoying dogs glance up with suspicion at passing pedestrians like myself, only to smile and give a quiet "Good morning" when they realize that I'm not going to ask for change or demand their wallets at knife point.  Even at daybreak you have to be on guard, doorways and alleys are still dark. Dawn brings desperation for those who have been up all night looking to smoke crack and want to rob someone while the streets are still dark and deserted.

I got to the Community Coffee on Decatur at 6:45 am, closed. They open at 7:00 am, "Ya gotz to be kiddin me?"  I passed four places still serving alcohol at quarter to seven, but I can't find caffeine. Up and dressed I wasn't going to go home to turn around and return. So I headed up to Unique Groceries in the 100 block of Royal. If there ever was a convenience store in the wild west, it would be like Unique Groceries.

Outside there is always a group of guys drinking out of paper bags and talking loud, asking for change or offering to sell you something that you know ain't what they say it is. By this point I am a caffeine junky desperate for my fix and in a lousy mood. As I try to enter a very drunk man is parking his bike in the doorway, I mean directly in the doorway. I try to skirt around to the left, he rolls the duct tape covered bike to the left. I step to the right, he rolls it to the right. "EXCUSE ME!" I bark. 

"Sarry, sarry, I's just tryin to park it so I cans see it frum insides the store.." I push by on my quest for an upper. "I needs my bike, don't want it stolen...." he continues to chatter at my back. Unique Groceries has about 60 feet of refrigerated coolers in the store. Only about 10 feet of them are devoted to non alcoholic beverages. There are no coffee makers in the store, so I grab an energy drink and my body suddenly starts to ease from it's discomfort realizing the hunger for caffeine will soon be quenched. Who do I get in line behind? The bicycle guy counting out pennies to by a beer. "78, 79, 90, 91, 92... what's you mean? Let's me start over... 1, 2, 3..."

Early morning on Bourbon Street.