NOLA: The water

One of the times I was driving back over Lake Pontchartrain, I remember looking out at the water and saying that I just felt that being close to water would do me good. Well, today after my minor meltdown, I drove down Canal until I got to the Riverwalk and sat on a bench by the water for awhile.

See Here:

Lovely, right?

I was feeling very inspired, watching couples walk up and down the Riverwalk. An older couple actually had a little packed lunch and was sharing a bench right down from me. A couple girlfriends walked together and laughed. And strangely enough, I didn't feel alone. I just felt somewhat normal. Ah, water.

Then, this couple began walking past me. They looked sorta touristy. One carrying a backpack. Then, I thought touristy kinda bordered on homeless-y. It's odd how thin the line between tourist and homeless seems to be in this place. Anyway, they both had beers and were walking and laughing. I just watched the water.

And just at my maximum moment of serenity, the couple passed right in front of my line of vision. The man proceeded to vomit. With no jerk. No crouch. No holdback. Just blurg. Right down onto the street in front of me. And then spitting some in the grassy area beside me. And then, they just kept walking. What kind of courtesy to people is that?

I looked around for a reaction for fellow water-watchers. Nothing. Nobody even acknowledges this. There are laws that slap your wrist if you miss one little doggie doo-doo on the sidewalk, and this guy ralphs and ruins my first moment of calm in this city, and just walks it off. Eee. Here is my open letter with attached instructional illustrational for this man.

Dear Man That Spewed,

I am unsure if you are homeless or a drunken tourist and while that is a problem, I will only address your bigger problem of vomiting in public. I understand that New Orleans is a boozy city and that Bourbon Street is mere blocks from the exact bench I sat on, but for the love of all that is Good and Trashy sir, please go to Bourbon Street to spew. It always smells a little like phlegm on that street anyway.

Or, find a respectable corner/hovel/behind a wall to crouch in. At very minimum, a step in the grass and a backturned to all on-lookers would be more acceptable. Instead, you treated this vomit like a sneeze and it hardly even affected your beer-guzzling gait. Vom-vom goes in the Potty. For future reference, see illustration.

Thank you for not vomiting directly on me,

Mary