Jessica and I reached the front entrance of the airport where taxicabs circle like vultures waiting for their prey. One pulled up immediately. We climbed in and were on our way.
Jessica had lived in the suburbs of New Orleans until her family moved when she was twelve. For me, images of paddleboats, streetcars and Mardi Gras were merely impressions from books and movies.
As we crossed the Mississippi River, the sun was just beginning to set on a city that seemed to be waiting especially for us. From the bridge, I could see paddle steamers lined up at the wharf like cars parked on a busy street.
From her side of the backseat of the taxi, Jessica leaned over toward me, startling me with a dark, eerie tone to her voice. “Did you know that all the graves in New Orleans are above ground?”
Now, playing along with her I replied flatly, without taking my gaze from the window. “Okay, Jess, why are all the graves above ground?”
Sounding disappointed, she explained, “Well, at high tide, the whole city is below river level. They had to build dykes and levees for protection.”
Finally looking over at her I said, “Jessica, I’m disappointed. I thought you would tell me a story about swimming zombies or something like that.”
“Hey, not bad. Wish I would have thought of that one.”
Smiling, I turned back to the view out my window. I could already see lights reflecting off the water and into the city, the lights that eventually would electrify the night.
Coming off the bridge, the traffic lightened as we began to drive through the St. Charles residential section. Each perfectly maintained home sat in the midst of its own extraordinary garden.
The sun had set by the time we drove into the city. The lights of the French Quarter were bright and alluring. It felt exciting and unreal to me, as though we had stepped into the pages of a book or onto a movie set.
The cab came to a stop. “Are you ready?” Jess looked over at me with one of her most mischievous smiles.
“You bet!”
“Well, let’s get moving.” She handed the driver a few bills and yelled back into the cab, “Keep the change!”
My stomach tightened with anticipation as I stepped out into the city. The smells of different kinds of food blended into a surprisingly appetizing mix. And there were people, all kinds, moving around in this party-like atmosphere.
Every glance brought a new fascination. This all-night carnival was the perfect place to stimulate a nocturnal person like myself. Lights, music and people swirled around me, pulling me into the intoxicating air.
There are many famous and historic streets in the French Quarter but the most recognized would have to be Bourbon Street. Everything on this infamous street was designed to whet one’s appetite, to excite one’s senses through music, food or sex. Though most people were drunk or working on it, you didn’t need alcohol to be intoxicated by this place. The street’s ragtime jazz lifted my already soaring spirits and put me further under its spell. I had been slightly overwhelmed by New York City but New Orleans had a completely different effect on me. I wanted to get closer, to know it better. It was as though the incident in Santa Barbara never happened.
The street somehow blended old and new, classic and sleazy, so smoothly that at times one had to look closely to notice the contradictions. An iron-laced balcony sat elegantly above the bawdy strip club that proudly announced its female impersonators.
“Hey, look here!” shouted Jess as she ran to the club, bobbing back and forth, trying to look past the man whose job it was to stand in the doorway and give passers-by enough of a peek to lure them in. His tall, lanky frame was hidden beneath a spotless white tuxedo. He was attractive in a flamboyant sort of way. His dark, slicked back hair framed his perfectly made-up face. He brought the cigarette he held in his long, slender fingers up to his perfectly glossed lips. He took a long drag, and then ever so smoothly, let the smoke pour back out.
“Come on, folks! You won’t believe your eyes! Male or female?” He ignored Jessica and leered over to me. “Hey, cutie, come on in. You’ll be my special guest.” His eyes burned through me. He touched my hand. I froze. Excitement plummeted into vulnerability. Without looking away, my words felt thick and heavy. “Jessica, please, let’s go. Didn’t you say you wanted to get a drink?” I quietly pleaded. Though she rarely drank, she made it clear that tonight she was out for some fun and excitement.
“Yeah, that’s right.” The thought of a cool drink took her mind away from the club, thank goodness. She grabbed my arm and started pulling me down the street and away from my newest acquaintance. “We’ll get you a hurricane at Pat O’Brien’s.”
“How far is it?” I huffed as I stumbled behind her. “Not far. You are sooo slow!” she complained as she continued to drag me down the street.
As I watched things go by in a blur, something caught my eye. I came to a dead stop, jerking Jess back in her tracks.
“Look.” I pointed to a sign high above our heads. The bottom half of a mannequin was swinging out from under flashing neon.
“Yeah, yeah. SO?” Suddenly her eyes lit up. “Hey! Let’s get your picture here in front of the ‘PALACE OF PLEASURE.’ Julie will love it.”
“You really think so?” I added sarcastically.
Okay, I was feeling adventurous again. Why not? So there I stood, posed in front of the den of iniquity.
“Holy cow, Pen! That’s a pose?”
“Move back. I can’t get both you and the sign in the picture.”
As I took a few tiny steps back, I noticed that the jazz behind me was slower, more soulful than the jazz we first heard when we got out of the cab.
“Smile, say sex!” she yelled.
Taking a deep breath, I suddenly inhaled the foul odor of stale liquor and vomit. My thoughts raced and my stomach sickened as to what may be going on in this place, but just as I was about to catch my breath, I felt the pressure of a large steady hand on my shoulder.
I fought both the urge and the fear to turn around. It was obviously a stranger, and I didn’t want to find out just how strange. What to do? Move! I took another deep breath and walked right past Jessica.
“Hey! Where are you going?” She tried to follow me. “What’s wrong?” she yelled.
“I’ll tell you later, just walk.”
“First I can’t get you to move, now I can’t get you to slow down. Whoa, we’re here. Would you just look?”
Sure enough, we were at the famous Pat O’Brien’s. The noise was deafening as we tried to squeeze past the customers crammed into the front room.
A waiter who was a dead ringer for Chris Hemsworth met us at the entrance to the outdoor café.
“Heelloo ladies, and how are you this evening?”
“Now that you’re here we’re just fine, sugah,” Jessica purred. Oh God, I thought.
He smiled. “If you’d come this way please …”
“Why, we’d be dee-lighted,” answered Jess.
She winked at me, pointed ahead and whispered, a bit too loud, “Great butt.” Her mischievous grin was back, and I had to hold back a giggle. She was right. He was gorgeous from his almost form-fitting, black tuxedo pants to his perfectly straight, brilliant white smile.
Jess and I had always been an interesting combination of friends. Me, the shorter, slightly round, baby-faced blond and she, the tall dark, Vivian Leigh look-alike. At times her unreserved behavior may have embarrassed me. But I had to admit; she rarely verbalized what I wasn’t already thinking.
The waiter pulled my chair out so I could sit down and did the same for Jess. “My name is Andre and I’ll be your waiter this evening.” Jessica leaned in towards him. “So, what would you ladies like?” I dreaded what I knew she was about to say, but luckily I was able to stop her with a pleading glare from across the table.
Gathering some composure she explained, “Well, Andre, this is my friend Penny’s first visit to Louisiana and the French Quarter. She absolutely must have a Hurricane, there’s no doubt about it.”
“Okay, then we’ll have to make absolutely sure she gets one!” Andre seemed more than happy to play along.
“Be back quick!” Jess teased as he left to fill our order.
Neither Jessica nor I were really drinkers. The few times we did drink, even a little, like on her twenty-first birthday, I noticed something. Jessica’s apparent level of intoxication was a bit like her southern accent. Her very slight drawl would conveniently thicken when she happened to be around the opposite sex. All our friends at school witnessed this and found it rather amusing.
Before we knew it, we each had a World’s Famous New Orleans Hurricane in front of us. The very tall, extremely red, Kool-aid looking drink was delicious. It tasted more like fruit juice than alcohol. Jessica could always handle her liquor better than I could. She gulped, I sipped. It never took long for me to feel a buzz.
I relaxed, inhaling the atmosphere. The outdoor café was filled with trees covered with tiny white twinkle lights that added the heavenly dream-like feeling. If I had been experiencing one of my “live” nightmares earlier, this part of the dream was heavenly. Lush plants and trees grew around this stone-floored oasis. White wrought-iron chairs and tables with heavy glass tops were spaced randomly around a beautifully lit fountain.
You couldn’t see beyond the walls on either side. This little spot seemed like a secluded retirement village surrounded by rowdy college students celebrating spring break.
A loud crash woke me from my pleasant distractions. One of the waiters had dropped a tray of glasses. Suddenly, the thought of the hand on my shoulder grabbed me in the chest to force me out of my happy daydreaming.
“Jess, who was behind me?”
Leaning over the table toward me, she dramatically looked from side to side and whispered mysteriously, “Where?” Having finished all but a few drops of her drink by now, she was a little more than tipsy, but why did she have to be so condescending?
“Back when you were taking my picture. Someone was behind me. The person put a hand on my shoulder. You must’ve seen someone!”
“I don’t know, there were people everywhere. Are you going to finish that?”
She grabbed my drink before I could answer. Leaning back in her chair she asked, “Well, where we gonna go next? Ooh, nice buns!” I thought she would grab Andre’s butt as he passed. Thank goodness her hand-eye coordination wasn’t quite up to par.
“Really, Jess, it’s bothering me. That was really scary. I need to know who was back there.”
“Oh come on, all someone did was put an innocent hand on your shoulder.”
How do you know it was innocent?
The smoke from the next table and the liquor sloshing in my empty stomach began to make me feel queasy and a bit lightheaded. I can’t believe we both forgot about the poisoning. I should never have ordered a drink. No wonder I feel sick.
“Jessica, I have to go to the bathroom; do you want to go?” She obviously had other things on her mind, and I wasn’t in the mood to try to drag her away. “You stay and enjoy the view; I’ll be right back.”
As I walked into the main section of the restaurant I began thinking, maybe she’s right. Maybe I’m just being foolish. I scolded myself. Scared, naive little girl-10, woman of the world-0.
Even though the café wasn’t overly warm, the air-conditioned ladies room felt refreshing. After I splashed my face with cold water, I felt a little better. I made my way back, weaving in and out of the crowd. Turning the corner and back outside, I saw our table, but no Jess.
“Come on, Jessica, I really don’t need this.” As I surveyed the crowd, I saw people using an outdoor walkway that I hadn’t noticed when we first came in. Jess was nowhere in sight.
Beginning to panic, I ran to the bartender. Sounding like a six-year-old separated from her mother in an airport, I pleaded, “Have you seen my friend? She’s tall with long dark hair.”
He looked at me rolling his eyes. “Lady, that’s half the women in this place.”
Suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Andre leaving, making a right turn at the front door. Thinking he could help me, I followed him. A group of people trying to outdo each other in obnoxiousness and volume blocked my path. I tried to squeeze past a woman who was holding a drink and cigarette in the same hand. Swaying with intoxication and busy with her conversation she bumped into me, her ice cold drink splashing down the front of my blouse.
She looked at the stain, not my face. “Oh hey, Honeey, I’m sorreeey.” She started to giggle and returned to her important conference.
I thought about going back to the ladies room. I thought about confronting her. Looking down at my blouse I thought, never mind, I have to find Jessica or Andre, or both. Certainly she wouldn’t leave me there to go off with a stranger. She hadn’t taken her eyes off him the whole time we were there.
Once outside, I looked in both directions and saw a group of guys talking a half block away. There was Andre, taking off his waiter’s jacket. Thank God, he’s right up there. I’m sure he’ll know where Jessie went. I started to run, to catch up with him before I lost him.
A beer bottle went flying in front of my face, shattering on the pavement to my right. Before I could see where it came from, a guy with a suede jacket and cowboy boots followed the same flight pattern. The cowboy didn’t fly as far as the bottle before he splattered at my feet.
A hand as big as my head came down, grabbing the guy by the neck, pulling him upright. “Ya wanna try that again, moron?” The fight intensified and a crowd began to gather. Caught in the commotion, I was pushed, dragged, then suddenly slammed against a nearby wall, banging the right side of my forehead against the bricks. The ruckus around me began to spin and fade to black. I hung onto the wall and closed my eyes. Even the blackness seemed to be revolving.
Finally, I felt steady enough to open my eyes. I held onto the wall with both hands and edged my way past the fight. I put my hand up to wipe the sweat from my face and noticed blood on the back of my hand. My head throbbed and panic erupted through the pain. I felt alone and vulnerable once again.
Where’s Jessica? Andre, yes Andre, he’s right up ahead.
I stumbled in the same direction I was headed before the brawl. Though the street in front of me was darker and my vision was spinning in and out of focus, I knew that’s where Andre had been standing just a few minutes ago.
Moving as fast as my feet would take me, I caught up with him. Doubled over, trying to catch my breath, I lost my balance and grabbed on to his sleeve.
“Hey, what’s wrong, babeee?”
“Nothing, nothing” I panted. “Have you seen my friend, the girl I was with back at the bar?”
“Gee, I don’t know your friend, but I could help you find her …” That voice sounds odd, I thought. He pulled me upright and though I couldn’t clearly see his face I quickly realized this was not Andre. “Yeeesss I could help you find her, for a favooor …” His grip tightened on my arm as he pulled me into the nearby alley.
“Get away from me! Let me go!” I screamed, turning toward the crowd. My cries were muffled by all the commotion. He yanked me off my feet and dragged me down the alley. The sound of the crowd faded and there was no sign of life at the other end of this back street.
This feeling was all too familiar. I can’t, I won’t go through this again! Suddenly, adrenaline shot through my body and with all my strength I pulled away from him. He tried to grab me but lost his grip. I flew past him further into the alley and tripped and fell onto the gritty pavement.
I’ve got to get out of here! I took off, sprinting away from the form that blocked the narrow entrance to the ally. I could hear nothing but my own heartbeat echoing in my ears.
I saw a light ahead. At first, I thought it was a side street but it wasn’t bright enough. As I stumbled to the corner, I could see it was just another dark alley with a single light.
I looked down to the other end and saw that it would eventually lead back to one of the main streets. I rounded the corner. The light I had seen earlier came from a rusty, vertical, half-lit sign apathetically stating, ROOMS. I leaned against the smooth, cool wall, trying to catch my breath. My entire body pulsed with the rapid, forceful beating of my heart. The sound echoing in my ears began to blend with sound from the alley.
A warning sign adorned the heavy glass door that took all my strength to open. “IF NUDITY OFFENDS YOU, DO NOT COME IN.” Great, what’s next? Is this another dream? All I wanted was an enjoyable evening out.
I stepped into a grimy amber glow. Okay, not too bad, it’s just a bar. Like the lighting in a lot of bars, this place gave you a feeling of being slightly hidden, of being somewhat safe in anonymity. The bar was rather crowded but the activity was slow and the noise muffled like a mute on a jazz trombone. Straight ahead was the bartender. He stood guarding his bottles of liquor that formed a perfect line in front of a huge mirror.
I ventured in a little further, and noticed some movement in my peripheral vision. I turned to look. It was a dancer, of sorts - actually, a young man in a closed booth wearing nothing but cowboy boots and a G - string. I tried to hide my stunned reaction, but when I looked around, I realized nobody was paying attention anyway. Turning back towards him, I saw how he awkwardly gyrated to the music I’m certain he did not hear. His mind and body seemed disassociated from each other. The sight saddened me. I wondered what may have happened to bring such a young guy to a place like this. I couldn’t imagine that this was his “dream job.”
I thought I heard the door open. I rushed around the corner just past the young ‘dancer’. This time I did look back. It was him, the guy from the alley. I recognized the shoes. “Now which way?” I muttered under my breath.
Straight back from where I was standing was a large set of swinging doors. The kind you’d see on an old western saloon, except bigger. I looked back into the bar and when I saw him turn in the other direction, I slid through the doors. That grimy amber glow met and blended into a red haze. The smoke was suffocating and I stifled back the urge to cough.
The old wooden floor creaked under the filthy, once plush, carpet. Through the haze I could see a few doors. They all appeared to be closed and none of them were marked EXIT.
I heard voices from the other side of the saloon doors and I panicked. I reached for the doorknob of the door closest to me, and saw it was already opened a crack. Too panicked to think rationally what might be on the other side, I pushed it open and rushed in. Smoke burned my nose and throat. Then the smoke began to clear from the draft of the open door behind me.
To my shock, lounging in this room were two women and a man, completely naked and almost oblivious to reality. What had I walked in on? Nobody reacted to my intrusion or to the door being wide open. There were plush chairs, couches, a shower stall with frosted glass in the corner and a small, round, steaming hot tub in the center. The woman sitting in the tub slowly turned her head toward me.
“Ya want some, sugah?”
“Um, um, um, ahh” I backed my way into the hall.
An arm grabbed me around the waist as a cloth covered my mouth and nose. I gagged at the taste while everything instantly spun to blackness.
* * *
The next thing I knew, I felt a chill. I was shaking and my head was pounding. The mere attempt to open my eyes brought a piercing pain I thought would make me vomit.
Finally, my head began to clear. It looked as though I was in some kind of warehouse. It seemed I had been dropped on one of those quilted pads movers use to cover furniture. It was splattered with many colors of paint, like a well-used drop cloth.
Whoever wanted me, or whoever put me here, must not have expected me to regain consciousness so quickly. My hands were tied behind my back but my mouth was uncovered and my feet were free.
I squirmed, rocked, and pushed myself into a sitting position with my back against the cool metal wall. When I plopped back against the wall, it vibrated like a musical saw sending off a loud fluttering in the rafters. Most likely pigeons, hopefully not bats. Who put me here and why? What do they want? Where did they go? Are they coming back?
After my feet slipped out from under me a few times, sending me crashing to the floor, I was finally able to shimmy my way up the wall to a standing position. Stay calm, stay quiet, I tried to remind myself. It didn’t work. I panicked. I frantically pulled at the ropes around my wrists. My skin burned, but I forced the ropes to loosen enough to slide off my hands.
I could see little areas of light, but I couldn’t tell where they were coming from. I would have thought it was sunlight breaking through holes in the ceiling if I hadn’t remembered it was nighttime and I was definitely having one of my real life nightmares.
When I couldn’t see, I felt my way. My fingers slid across a glossy surface until they felt a corner.
I took a step around and swallowed a scream. Only twenty feet in front of me stood a huge, laughing jester. I swear I heard him cackling. His four by four foot painted eyes stared ahead blankly and his twelve-foot grin snickered down at me and my predicament.
Just an old parade float, I assured myself. I resumed my search for a way out.
I soon found that the Jester had many friends locked in with him and I began making my way through an endless string of phantoms of “Mardi Gras Past.”
Football players twenty feet high patiently waited for kick-off. A colorful plastic replica of Mt. Rushmore sat in disrepair while horses large enough to trample an eighteen-wheeler looked down from their assigned corner. And last, but not least, were the powerful Vikings protecting the entire Mardi Gras morgue.
I almost started to relax a bit, then I heard footsteps echoing quickly behind me.
“Where’d you go, You nasty little brat?” The angry voice startled me and my mind raced to another time, another place.
“You know I’ll find you.” In pitch blackness, I hear the words echo from above. Lightning flashes, revealing a basement. Another flash and once again I was back in the warehouse.
Peering through the shadows, I could see another patch of light. This time it didn’t come from above. Instead it was filtering in horizontally, through the jaws of a giant alligator. No longer worried about the sound of my own footsteps being heard, I ran. Finally, I saw a partially open door. I picked up speed, when, from out of the blackness, someone grabbed me, then threw me to the floor.
As I looked up, I could see the light from the open door reflect off the lethal piece of metal just a few inches from my face.
“You come when I call. Got it?”
My body shuddered as I finally gasped in the musty air. Closing my eyes, I saw another flash.
I’ve heard this voice before. Not again! I won’t take this anymore!
I nodded in agreement, while a sense of survival and pure anger took over.
He lunged the knife in my direction but I pulled away just enough for the blade to miss me. I used all my strength, plus the added sense of surprise to knock the knife out of his hand onto the cold cement floor. He scrambled for the knife as I flew out the door, afraid to stop. All of a sudden, I saw warm lights and happy, laughing voices again.
I ran full force into a street musician and almost knocked him off his feet. He wore a little straw hat and an entire outfit made of colorful patches. I knocked the banjo out of his hands. Huffing and gasping I reached down to pick it up.
“Y’all right, honey?” He smiled with genuine concern.
“Um, yes, thank you, um, here …” I handed him the banjo. “I’m sorry.”
“That’s Okay, no harm done.” He took his banjo back and immediately resumed his strumming.
I looked around, and even though it was from pictures, I knew I was in Jackson Square. I had found my way into the very heart of New Orleans. Finally, I was back in the midst of society again. I thought nobody would try anything out here, right?
Up ahead I saw quite an audience gathered around two young men dressed like clowns. They were juggling sticks of flames.
As I reached the show, I noticed my assailant stumbling into the square. He caught his balance and frantically looked around.
I smoothly slid into the crowd unnoticed. He looked around again, then took off in another direction. I took a deep breath and let out an audible sigh.
I looked past the jugglers where something else caught my eye. There stood St. Louis Cathedral, warmly lit and offering comfort and safety. Moving slowly toward the Cathedral, I began to feel the pain. I felt as though I had been through a war. Everything ached. I looked down. My clothes were dirty, ripped and bloody.
I lowered myself awkwardly onto the curb in front of the beautiful, historic cathedral. I stared down at my feet and my mind went numb. My body began to relax, my head was clear again.
All of a sudden I felt hands clasp over my eyes and a deep voice whispered, “Guess who?”
I swung my elbow back with such force I sunk it into someone’s stomach. I guess I was still in defense mode.
Jessica coughed and rolled back in pain from her kneeling position behind me. “Whoa! What’s your problem?”
I looked at her as she tried to catch her breath. I could see the shock on her face when she saw the shape I was in.
“My God, Penny, what happened? Are you okay?”
“Well, no, but I think I will be.”
A loud crack of thunder startled both of us.
“You scared the hell out of me. I even had the police helping me look for you.” She looked down the street, then back at me. “I better tell that nice cop I found you. Come on, he’s probably still at that restaurant two streets back.”
She looked at me again. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
I just nodded. The crack of thunder was now a loud boom directly overhead. We slowly walked to the restaurant. A heavy, almost silent rain began to pour down on us, but I had no desire to rush to find shelter. The rain felt like a warm shower, almost hypnotizing, after my ordeal.
The rain drenched us almost immediately. Jessica looked over at me. “Penny …?” I knew she was probably wondering why I wasn’t running for cover. I had done enough of that.
Jessica had always been someone who could “go with the flow.” She seemed to understand how I was feeling. Without another word, we continued to walk through the pouring rain, through the streets of the French Quarter, while at least for me, the wild pace of everything around me slipped into slow motion.