Maybe there IS such a thing as too much excitement
Today started out pretty normal. I woke up, worked on homework and work work, bought groceries and gas, and went to class. Then, I got ready to go to a goth/industrial night at a local club with my friend Moira.
Hoo-boy.
We went to the club. A couple of the songs were good. We danced.
Then, at midnight, we headed back to the streetcar stop. We arrived at about 12:20. Then, an old man sat down next to us and drank a giant can of beer in a little more than a minute's time. Then, a creepy-vibe dude started to walk over, so Moira decided to walk to CVS to get some money for a cab. The CVS was locked up. That was around 1 a.m.
We ended up buying hot dogs from a guy who had a gay, mentally disabled man watch the cart while he ran for some change. He was pretty nice and gave us kisses then asked if we were dykes. He told us even if we weren't we should head to dyke night. Unfortunately, I didn't ask him where that was.
We ate our hot dogs as we walked to see if we could meet the next trolley. We hopped on and were told the trolley stopped at Broad. I looked to Moira, who knows the area better, and she nodded. So, I paid our fare. Except, she realized a block later that Broad was way too far for us to walk. So, I lost that fare, and we were back on the streets of New Orleans, now at 1:30 a.m. We walked to the corner of Royal and Canal to call a cab.
As Moira placed the call, we watched what seemed like every police car in New Orleans drive towards us. A couple drove the wrong way into traffic. They all stopped at our corner, and police hopped out with their guns drawn. I heard a whump sound and the police began to yell for someone to get on the ground. We booked it a couple of blocks over while large groups of people actually started to run towards the police to see what was going on.
While we were waiting for the cab, and in the confusion, I think I watched some guy steal a bike about a hundred feet from a cop car.
I wasn't scared through any of it. To me it was just interesting. I think that's probably the reporter in me. Although, I was smart enough to start moving away from the commotion.
My mom must never find out about any of this.
Hoo-boy.
We went to the club. A couple of the songs were good. We danced.
Then, at midnight, we headed back to the streetcar stop. We arrived at about 12:20. Then, an old man sat down next to us and drank a giant can of beer in a little more than a minute's time. Then, a creepy-vibe dude started to walk over, so Moira decided to walk to CVS to get some money for a cab. The CVS was locked up. That was around 1 a.m.
We ended up buying hot dogs from a guy who had a gay, mentally disabled man watch the cart while he ran for some change. He was pretty nice and gave us kisses then asked if we were dykes. He told us even if we weren't we should head to dyke night. Unfortunately, I didn't ask him where that was.
We ate our hot dogs as we walked to see if we could meet the next trolley. We hopped on and were told the trolley stopped at Broad. I looked to Moira, who knows the area better, and she nodded. So, I paid our fare. Except, she realized a block later that Broad was way too far for us to walk. So, I lost that fare, and we were back on the streets of New Orleans, now at 1:30 a.m. We walked to the corner of Royal and Canal to call a cab.
As Moira placed the call, we watched what seemed like every police car in New Orleans drive towards us. A couple drove the wrong way into traffic. They all stopped at our corner, and police hopped out with their guns drawn. I heard a whump sound and the police began to yell for someone to get on the ground. We booked it a couple of blocks over while large groups of people actually started to run towards the police to see what was going on.
While we were waiting for the cab, and in the confusion, I think I watched some guy steal a bike about a hundred feet from a cop car.
I wasn't scared through any of it. To me it was just interesting. I think that's probably the reporter in me. Although, I was smart enough to start moving away from the commotion.
My mom must never find out about any of this.