Sodom

We drove into New Orleans a little before dark. "Let's take a tour of the town before we check into a hotel," Vladi said. So he maneuvered the big van through the crowded streets, us gawking and pointing at the crooked looking city with its hanging shutters and wrought iron railings. Neither of us had seen anything like this before. It looked spooky and dangerous.

We found a hotel somewhere near the river within walking distance of the French quarter and parked the van. "Hurry up and shower," I said. "I want to get out there."

We were both quick alright, and there was still a little daylight left when we left the room.

"We're underwater, you know," Vladi said in his lecturing tone.

"What do you mean?" And as he explained what he knew of the dredging and the levies that had made the town, I noticed that it looked as though we were beneath the level of the water.

"What the fuck? Why would people want to live like this?"

"Let's go find out," said Vladi grinning like an imp. I was always impressed with how smart and how bad Vladi could be.

The first thing of note as we approached the French Quarter was the odor. The entire town smelled like puke and beer. The two and three story brick buildings that lined the streets made canyons from which the concentrated fumes funneled. The lights of the city were beginning to twinkle.

"Let's go to Pat O'Brien's," Vladi said. "I want to get a Hurricane.

I had no idea what he was talking about, but he said it with such casual authority that I didn't want to ask any questions. He seemed to know where he was going.

When we got there, the place was full of people, tourists like us, you could tell. Everywhere we looked, people were laughing and drinking cocktails from big glasses. We found a table and sat among the throng, part and parcel of the artificial celebration going on about us. Quickly, a waitress approached the table.

"I'll have a Hurricane," shouted Vladi.

"Me too," I nodded.

In a little while we sat with two large, garnished glasses in front of us full of something red. "What's in this?" I asked Vladi.

"Rum. Lots of it."

I sipped my drink through the straw. It was terribly sweet.

"This is pretty good," I said to Vladi who nodded his agreement. And so we drank, two men fresh from the road, bathed and tired, men of experience, now mountain climbers and veterans of the highway, sitting in New Orleans gulping down Hurricanes. Yes, I thought, we were really coming along.

We finished our drinks like they were soda pop and decided to head out to see more of the town. We were feeling good now, all juiced up with sugar and with rum. We passed a few doorways and looked in, but decided to keep walking. We walked this way and that, then decided to cut through what looked like an alleyway to another street. The brick walls were close, but there were small iron balconies lining the alleyway in the space above. Nobody was out. We passed an open doorway from which light and smoke were pouring. Vladi slowed down and stuck his head inside. "C'mon," he spat, "let's get a beer in here."

Inside was a small room with close tables and small couches. It was barely lit and everyone seemed to be friends. We walked up to the bar and received an odd look from the bartender. He didn't say anything for a moment as he sized us up. Maybe he was trying to remember if we'd been there before. For a moment, I thought he was going to tell us to leave. "What'ya want," he finally mumbled.

"Two Old Dixies," Vladi said.

"What's an Old Dixie," I asked.

"Beer. They brew it here."

Vladi seemed to know everything.

We stood drinking our beers watching the room. The place was funky, not like anything at home, so we felt cool with the experience, but nothing much seemed to be going on. People sat in small groups and talked and drank, mostly young people a little older than us. And that was it for excitement. We were finishing our beers and getting ready to leave when two girls walked in from the small alleyway and came straight over to where we were standing at the bar.

"Hey, Sam," one of them said to the bartender who was already handing them two beers.

"Hey, Sarah, what're up to tonight?"

Sarah just shook her long, brown curly hair and said, "Nothing." The girls were cute, so I guess that is why Vladi said, "Give us two more," before the bartender got away.

"Hey," said Vladi to the brunette.

"Hey."

"My name's Vladi. You're Sarah."

"How'd you know that?" she said turning her head sideways squinting and grinning.

"I saw your picture in the paper," Vladi said.

"What!?"

"I heard the bartender say your name," he laughed, and then Sarah was laughing too.

"Well, hello Vladi, this is my friend, Rachel. Rachel, this is Vladi."

"Hello Rachel, " Vladi said reaching out his hand. He had apparently forgotten about me, so I introduced myself. "Oh, yea," Vladi jumped, "we just got in from New York."

"Oh, you guys are from New York?"

"No," he said, "we're from Florida, but we've been traveling around for awhile just seeing things."

"Reaallly," said Sarah sounding impressed. "That sounds cool. Listen, Rachel and I are going upstairs. It's a private bar, but we can take you up if you want to come."

Vladi looked at me. I shrugged my shoulders. "Sure," he said, "let's go."

"Sam," Sarah said to the bartender, "I don't have my key. Can you let me in?"

Sam handed Sarah an old, skeleton style key. "I'll bring it right back," she said, then she turned to Vladi. "C'mon."

We followed Sarah and Rachel across the small room to a set of small, antique stairs that pitched almost straight up to a small door. Sarah went up first and unlocked the door and handed the key back to Rachel. "Take this back to Sam," she said. "I'll wait and let you in. C'mon, you guys." And so Vladi went up the stairway and when he was at the door, I followed.

The room was small and dark like an attic. There were a few people sitting around, but it looked like people were leaving.

"Hey, Sarah."

"Hey Johnny, what's going on?"

"Everyone is going home now. Come back at eleven. That's when it's going on."

"Oh," said Sarah, "eleven? OK. We'll come back then."

And I thought that was it, that we were going to leave, but Rachel was coming up the stairwell and Sarah was motioning us inside. We sat down on some pillows and drank our beers. I felt like an alien, so I grinned like an idiot who is at home in the world.

"We're too early," Sarah said to Rachel. "Everyone is coming at eleven."

"Oh," Rachel said. "What do you want to do then."

"Let's just finish our beers and we'll come back in a little while."

"OK."

"You guys want to come?" she asked Vladi. I felt like I was playing Mortimer Snerd to Vladi's Charlie McCarthy.

"Come to what?" Vladi asked.

"Well, you ever heard of Santeria?" Vladi and I shook our heads no.

"It's a kind of religion," she said, "sort of. It comes from the Caribbean originally, but it has been here forever. There is a high priest in town who is going to perform a ceremony. It should be pretty wild."

"Wild like what?" Vladi asked her, his head going back a little like he'd been pushed.

"They say he's going to do a sacrifice."

Then Rachel piped in. "Chickens," she said.

"They're going to sacrifice chickens?" I blurted. "Really?"

Sarah and Rachel turned to me like they were seeing me for the first time. They didn't say anything.

"Sure," Vladi said. "Say, that will be fine. What time did you say?"

"Eleven o'clock," Sarah told him.

"You sure you're going to be here?" Vladi asked her. "They're not going to let us in by ourselves."

"Yes," she said with a smile, "eleven o'clock. But be here early. The place is going to get crowded."

Back in the street, I looked at Vladi. "You really want to go to the blood letting?" I asked him.

"I don't know. But our options are open. Let's go to a strip club."

I was already drunk and it was early. Jesus.