#very very thankful that everyone in my own band is a snob with great taste

[passumbapper]

I did get that wedding band job btw! they don't need me until february (current bassist is sticking it out til the end of the year) (this is good because I have time to learn everything) but also my first gig is in freaking maryland so basically my suffering is immeasurable

[tinyboxxtink]

Build Me Up Buttercup *Part 6*

Okay this may be my favorite chapter so far. Actually screw it, it most DEFINITELY IS. 

NOTE: If you have never heard the song “Sparks Fly” by Taylor Swift, go listen to it NOW. Before you read this. And actually, you know what just listen to it while reading it, trust me.

If you need to catch up:

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 7

Tag List: @wanniiieeee

“Uh, watcha doin�� there, detective?”

Sonny’s voice immediately brought you back down to earth. Your head bolted upright and you sprang away from Barba like he was suddenly on fire.

“What? Oh, nothing. What? You know I’m just, tired, you know-- long day,”

Words spilled out of your mouth quicker than you could think of them. God how embarrassing! Why would you even think of making a move on your ADA? In front of everyone?!

Was it a move though? I mean really. Did he have to just call it out like that? You had to get out of that booth.

“Y’know what actually I am going to run to the ladies room, that Hurricane really went right through me! Like a hurricane!” Again, the word vomit would not stop. You let out a pained awkward laugh and bolted from the table.

--

“REALLY, Caris?” Rafael gave Carisi a look that could kill him right there in the booth.

“What? I just---OW! Amanda, that hurt!” Sonny rubbed his thigh and looked at Amanda who was shaking her head.

--

Meanwhile, in the bathroom, you were beating yourself up in the mirror.

“What is WRONG with you?!”

You were yelling at your reflection, totally normal.

“Ugh…” you sighed, splashing water on your face and cupping your hands around your neck. You needed to wash this day OFF already.

Wait...that gave you an idea.

You peeked out of the bathroom to see everyone still at your table, so while they weren’t paying attention you made a mad dash out of the bar and to your car in the parking lot. You popped your trunk and began throwing things around.

“Please please please please…” You begged no one in particular, shoving empty water bottles and coupons onto the pavement.

“A ha! Yes!” you exclaimed in triumph.

You would never admit it, but you basically lived in your car sometimes. You probably had half your closet in here.

You pulled out a pair of hip hugger jeans and a t-shirt; your lucky t-shirt, to be precise.

Yes maybe it was stupid to have “lucky” items at your age, but you didn’t care. You and this t-shirt had been through some STUFF, and came out the other side together. If anything could turn this night around, it could. Sure it was a TAD too tight from so many washes, the writing on it was barely visible, and it may have had a tear or two, but you had altered it to make the damage look fashionable. At least, you thought so.

You knelt behind your car, trying to change discreetly. You kept a careful watch out, God knows the squad did NOT need another case right now. You tossed your blazer and dress shirt back into the trunk, slipped off your skirt and pulled on the jeans and t-shirt as quickly as you could, then you slammed the trunk shut and walked over to the driver’s side view mirror.

“Not bad; not bad at all detective,” you smirked at your reflection before locking your car and running back inside.

As you approached your table, you saw Barba notice you, and then NOTICE, you. His eyes grew and his mouth slightly opened. Okay so maybe sometimes you went a little overboard on trying to look “professional” around your squad-- this was probably the first time you even alluded to having chesticles.

“I’m sorry sweetie have you seen our co-worker?” Amanda asked jokingly.

“What? I needed to get this day off of me, you know?”

“Yes, off indeed,” Oliva raised her eyebrows.

“What is it too much? Should I change back?”

“NO” All three men responded in unison, then quickly looked around elsewhere like nothing happened.

“You’re fine,” Fin assured you.

“Yes you are,” Carisi blurted.

“REALLY Carisi?!” Barba almost slapped him across the table.

“What? I didn’t mean it like--” Sonny protested while pleading with a very offended Amanda. They started having their own little squabble as Barba scooted closer to you.

“You really do look nice,” He smiled.

“...In jeans and a t-shirt? Thanks,” You gave a smile back while you felt your face blushing.

“No, I mean, happier. I like seeing happy on you,” He smiled even more, fidgeting like he wanted to touch you but didn’t want foghorn Sonny going off again.

“OH. Um, yeah thanks. I like seeing you happy too, counselor,”  Your face was a full on skillet, you could fry an egg on them from the heat they radiated. You had to look anywhere else but his eyes or you might do something Carisi would DEFINITELY have something to say about.

“Ooooh! You know what else I do when I wanna get the taste of a bad day out of my mouth?” You changed the subject lightening quick as soon as you saw the stage across the room.

“Shots?” Amanda asked.

“Well, yeah obviously but--”

“AMBER did you hear that? Another round of shots!”

“DANCE,” you completely ignored Amanda’s antics. “I dance it out!” You pointed over to a small band who was testing sound equipment, obviously about to start a show.

“...Is she serious?” Fin muttered to Olivia.

“Is she drunk off ONE Hurricane?” Carisi raised his eyebrow.

“No come on-- Ugh! You guys cannot be that old.” you groaned.

“We might be,” Olivia half laughed.

“Too old to dance?!” You scoffed.

“In a room full of people, to country music? I don’t even have to be old to not wanna do that honey,” Fin put his hands up.

As they were all expressing their objections and insults, a scheme began running through your brain. Your eyes went from the band--- 2 guitarists, a drummer and a girl lead singer-- perfect. Your eyes then turned back towards Barba, who actually hadn’t protested your dance it out idea. PERFECT.

“Well I’m not old yet, I’m gonna dance it out to Tay Tay Swift!” You stuck your tongue out at the group and ran over to the band. The squad exchanged looks of disbelief while they watched you have a conversation with the band, and soon came running back over.

“Alright hey ya’ll we are Cactus Flower, how we feelin tonight?”

Scattered applause and drunken cheers answered her.

“Great...well, for our first song we’ve actually got a request, so this one is for you detective,” she smiled as the music started

It was relatively slow, so a few couples slowly began congregating on the dance floor. Other young girls squealed and formed a dance circle in a corner. Alright, it’s now or never, detective.

You started off dancing by yourself, just vibing to the song. You eyed everyone in your party, daring them to join you.

The way you move is like a full on rainstorm

And I'm a house of cards

You're the kind of reckless

That should send me running

But I kinda know that I won't get far

“Oh come on guys, you’re really gonna make me stand here looking like a moron?”

And you stood there in front of me

Just close enough to touch

Close enough to hope you couldn't see

What I was thinking of

“Baby girl, you're doin that all on your own!” Finn laughed.

You saw the thoughts mulling in Barba’s mind, glancing from you to the group and back to you again. Finally, to your delight, he shook his head and stood up.

Drop everything now

Meet me in the pouring rain

Kiss me on the sidewalk

Take away the pain

'Cause I see sparks fly

Whenever you smile

“You guys are cruel,” He remarked, walking right up to you.

“Can I have this dance?”

PERFECT.

He took your hand and spun you, you clumsily fell into his chest and looked into his eyes with a smile JUST as the song hit your target.

You glanced over to see the squad’s collective jaws on the floor.

Get me with those green eyes

Baby, as the lights go down

Give me something that'll haunt me

When you're not around

'Cause I see sparks fly

Whenever you smile

“....You know, my eyes are green.” he raised an eyebrow.

“Really? Huh. Go figure,” you batted your eyes innocently.

You were downright shocked that Rafael had not run screaming from the very obvious message of the song, and even more shocked the squad was allowing it. But you were not tempting anybody or anything by questioning it; you were just going to enjoy this dance, this moment.

My mind forgets to remind me

You're a bad idea

You touch me once and it's really something

You find I'm even better than you imagined I would be

I'm on my guard for the rest of the world

But with you I know it's no good

And I could wait patiently but

I really wish you would

You both continued to dance in silence, Rafael now listening very intently to every word of the song, and grinning more and more as it went on.

Drop everything now

Meet me in the pouring rain

Kiss me on the sidewalk

Take away the pain

'Cause I see sparks fly

Whenever you smile

Rafael spun you around in a big dramatic flourish, as he commented “I do have a gorgeous smile, don’t I?”

Get me with those green eyes

Baby, as the lights go down

Give me something that'll haunt me

When you're not around

'Cause I see sparks fly

Whenever you smile

“What? Hm? Can’t hear you,” You pretended you were too far away, then smirked when you twirled back into his torso.

“Mmmhmm,”

The song reached it’s interlude, the beat banging every word emphatically. Rafael pulled your arms up around his neck, just as the last chorus went into the soft breakdown.

I run my fingers through your hair

And watch the lights go wild

Just keep on keeping your eyes on me

It's just wrong enough to make it feel right

And lead me up the staircase

Won't you whisper soft and slow?

I'm captivated by you, baby, like a firework show

You looked into those green eyes, your head swimming. 24 hours ago this man was just your co-worker, a coffee snob ADA. And now, you were both in each other’s arms and staring at each other’s lips-- you closed your eyes as the song played.

Drop everything now

Meet me in the pouring rain

Kiss me on the sidewalk

“I um, I’m really sorry Y/N. I um...I need to go. To the...bathroom. I’m sorry just...I’m sorry,”

Take away the pain

'Cause I see sparks fly

Whenever you smile….

You watch Rafael practically bolt off the dance floor and into the men’s room as you stood there alone while the song finished.

Get me with those green eyes

Baby, as the lights go down

Give me something that'll haunt me

When you're not around

'Cause I see sparks fly

Whenever you smile

What had just happened?

[iffeelscouldkill]

Adjusting [Part 2: Park]

A/N: Here’s Part 2! Many thanks to @dragonsthough101 for beta reading this and for the lovely, encouraging feedback💖💖💖

If you haven’t read it or want to re-read, here’s a link to Part 1!

Summary: It turns out that there isn’t a blueprint for quitting your job, turning your back on the organisation that you’d built your life around, committing treason and abandoning your friends and family to go travel across the galaxy with a band of wanted criminals. Fortunately, RJ now knows some people who have been there.

Or: Five times that RJ McCabe shares a late-night drink with someone on the Iris 2.

Read on AO3

About a week later, RJ is feeling slightly more at home on the Iris. It helps that it’s a new ship for the rest of the crew, too, and so everyone’s a bit at sea, missing things they used to take for granted and sometimes finding themselves unexpectedly at a loose end.

One of the things that RJ finds hard to get used to is how chatty the crew of the Rumor is. They knew about this from listening to the recordings, but knowing about something and being on the receiving end of it are two very different things. In the IGR, supervisors tended to frown on idle chatter (everything was about maximising productivity, after all) and people were cautious about volunteering details of their personal lives, never quite sure who might be trying to inform on them or get them written up for having a hobby that wasn’t quite above-board. You couldn’t exactly enjoy a conversation with someone when you were constantly watching your words.

But here on the Iris, everyone talks so much, about anything and everything. RJ isn’t used to people honestly trying to get to know them, or to the level of genuine interest that many of the crew have taken in their past, their hobbies, their thoughts, and their likes and dislikes.

RJ knows that Krejjh and Brian mean well, and that Sana cares about every member of her crew (the idea that RJ is included in that category already is still hard to wrap their head around), but it can still be a little much sometimes. They prefer to spend time around Violet, who is more tactful; Park, who is familiar; or Arkady, who is mostly silent except when she’s cracking some honestly hilarious sarcastic jokes.

Nights are still hard, and RJ has more or less become used to taking hours to get to sleep, or waking up in the middle of the night from confused and anxious dreams, but they’re finding things to do with the extra time. Park, who is an incurable bookworm, gifted RJ with a truly staggering number of audiobook files that he’s been keeping on a jailbroken telecomm (a sort of souped-up comm device that Republic employees are issued as standard). RJ has learned things about their former boss’s tastes that they never expected.

(“Park! You know a jailbroken telecomm is considered a Class E banned item, right?” RJ says when Park shows it to them.

“Oh no,” Park replies, deadpan. “Do you think I’ll get in trouble for it?”)

Even more unexpected, though, are the downloads that RJ was given by Krejjh and Brian after they expressed curiosity towards something called ‘Sh’th Hremreh’ that the two were always discussing. Krejjh’s eyes lit up and they immediately began to wax lyrical about the plot and the acting, Brian chipping in with relevant details. Before they knew what was happening, RJ found themself in possession of two whole seasons of a Dwarnian soap opera.

(RJ doesn’t speak Dwarnian, of course, but Brian has a solution for that. “I’ve created my own fansubs,” he says happily. “It’s been a good exercise for my translation skills – don’t want them to get rusty – and it helped Krejjh with their English, back when they were still learning. I upload them to a Dwarnian video site under a pseudonym.”

“They’re very popular!” Krejjh adds proudly.)

So, between audiobooks and Dwarnian soap opera episodes – which are oddly engrossing – RJ has a few ways to take their mind off things, but sometimes it still isn’t enough. On nights like these, RJ makes their way to the kitchen. The crew had made a brief stop-off at an extremely sketchy and borderline lawless moon where a heavily disguised Sana and Arkady did a run for basic supplies, so the tea stocks are replenished – although it’s not great tea. (Apparently, one night of quality herbal tea was enough to turn RJ into a bit of a tea snob).

What they don’t expect is to run into Park, sitting in the darkened kitchen at two o’clock in the morning. The lights flicker on as RJ enters, which means that Park must have been sitting still long enough for the motion sensors to deactivate.

“Oh – McCabe,” he says, looking up. “I mean… RJ, sorry.”

“You can still call me McCabe,” RJ tells him as they pull out the stepping stool, carry it over to the cupboard, and climb up to reach the highest shelf. Park watches in bemusement. “I mean, I still call you Park, unless you’d prefer-”

“No, just Park is fine,” Park assures them. “What are you doing?”

“You’ll see.”

RJ pulls down the little cardboard box, sets it on the table, and opens it to reveal an orderly collection of teabags in rows. “We’re running low on camomile, but I think the peppermint is caffeine-free.”

“What if I want caffeine?” Park asks, eyeing the collection of teabags warily. He looks terrible, with dishevelled hair and dark circles under his eyes.

“That’s too bad, because you’re not getting any,” RJ tells him primly, and takes a bag of peppermint tea out of the box. Park laughs as though it’s been startled out of him.

“Fine.”

As they wait for the water to boil, RJ surveys Park out of the corner of their eye. They realise that they’d subconsciously been thinking of Park as ‘further ahead’ than they were with adjusting to life as an outlaw, given that he’d turned against the Republic first, and actively worked with the crew of the Rumor to carry out the plan on New Jupiter. During the day, he puts up a good front, but RJ can see now how much of that is a front. This hasn’t been easy for Park either.

RJ pours out the tea into two dinged-up tin mugs and hands one to Park. For a while, neither of them says anything.

RJ and Park haven’t talked about the Republic much since leaving New Jupiter. RJ has made the odd quip about working with Agent Goodman, or referenced things that happened in their shared office, and both of them have been providing intel that Sana relays to the resistance movement via the other Violet Liu, but they haven’t had a real conversation about what – and who – both of them left behind. Park seems disinclined to talk about his time in Zone Z, and RJ had convinced themself that the best way to adjust to their new life on the Iris was to draw a line under everything that came before it. There was no point in bringing up old memories.

Except that now, they’re struck by how much they want to talk about it.

“Park,” RJ says in a rush. “Do you… ever miss… being back on New Jupiter? I-I don’t mean the last… part of your time on New Jupiter,” they add hurriedly when Park looks at them. “But… is there anything that you miss about… before?”

Park frowns in consideration. “I miss the amenities, for sure,” he says slowly. “I don’t care what Sana says – the water pressure is not the same in vacuum.” RJ snorts in amusement at that. “And the food was better down there.

“Maybe I miss being on the right side of the law, or thinking I was on the right side of the law – being able to safely move across IGR territory, being able to use my real name and identity. The kinds of things you just take for granted until you can’t do them anymore.” Park pauses, seeming to weigh his next words.

“But the thing is… I never felt safe under the IGR either. You remember what it was like.” Park looks at RJ, and there’s a darkness in his eyes that RJ has only seen there once before: shortly after Park’s return from Zone Z, when they had asked about what happened to his eye. At the time, it had been quickly suppressed, leaving RJ with a vaguely unsettled feeling that they couldn’t pinpoint the source of.

“Everyone constantly trying to inform on everyone else. People disappearing one day without a trace. Wondering if it would be you next. Constantly watching what you said, analysing what you did, looking over your shoulder.” Park gazes off into the middle distance, remembering things that RJ can only guess at. They unconsciously hold their breath, afraid to do or say anything to break Park’s reverie.

“When Major General Frederick came to take me away… there was a part of me that wasn’t surprised. I think I’d almost been waiting for it. The investigation wasn’t going well, and they were looking for someone to scapegoat. It was only a matter of time. Under a regime like the IGR-”

RJ manages to suppress their instinctive flinch at hearing Park describe the Republic in those terms, but only just. In spite of everything they now know to be true about the IGR, it isn’t easy to alter a lifetime of thinking a certain way. Or of not being allowed to think a certain way.

“-you never know when the ground is going to shift beneath your feet. You might cross the wrong person, or do something that you know to be the right thing, and still wind up ‘disappearing’.” Park pronounces the last word with an uncharacteristic bitterness. “So no, I don’t really miss how things were on New Jupiter.”

“Yeah,” RJ says shakily. “You, uh, you make some good points. Hadn’t… hadn’t thought of that.”

Park blinks, and immediately looks stricken. “McCabe– I’m sorry, I really shouldn’t have – I don’t know why I said all of that. I know it wasn’t what you were asking. I’ve just been carrying a lot of-”

“Park, it’s fine. You don’t need to apologise,” RJ says over him. “And you don’t need to try and sugarcoat anything for me. I was a naïve kid when I joined the investigation, but I’m not now. I saw you get taken away, and other people as well. I was terrified. But I found ways to justify it in my head, because I didn’t know what else to do.”

They say this last part, quietly, to the tabletop.

Park rubs his good eye. “I never wanted you to have to go through that.”

“But that wasn’t your fault,” RJ tells him. “It was theirs.”

Silence descends for a few moments, and RJ casts about for a change of subject. “So, uh, have you… heard from Shelley?”

Park shakes his head. “I asked the other Violet to get a message to her, because I wanted her to hear the truth from me and not whatever lies the Regime has decided to put out, but she warned me that it could take a while. I’m not sure if or how Shelley will be able to reply.”

RJ nods, their mouth twisting in sympathy. Shelley is Park’s twin sister, and the two are extremely close. Park hasn’t shared many details about his family life, but RJ has inferred that their parents aren’t around anymore, and that Park and Shelley are each the only family the other has left. It must be incredibly hard for him to be away from her – maybe the hardest thing of all.

“What about, uh… Have you thought of getting in touch with yours?” Park asks, his voice rough. RJ shakes their head.

“No. It would just be…”

RJ hunts for the right words for a long moment, and finally says, “It wouldn’t make much of a difference. To them, the truth would be just as bad.”

Park looks troubled, but he nods. “Okay.” He drains the last of the peppermint tea and smiles a little. “All right, I’ll admit it – the tea has helped. I didn’t even know there was a stash in here.”

“I split the cost with Violet and Arkady,” says RJ. “But it’s meant to be for emergencies only.” When Park quirks an eyebrow, RJ adds, “Insomnia counts as an emergency.”

Park gives that small smile again. “Fair enough. I appreciate it, anyway. You using up your emergency tea on me.”

RJ considers pointing out that they’d been going to make a cup anyway, but decides not to ruin the sentiment. “You’re welcome.”

“I guess I should head back to…” Park plants his hands on the table and levers himself up, wincing like he’s aggravating old injuries. Maybe he is. RJ still has no idea what the IGR did to him in Zone Z, besides the… eyeball thing.

“Park,” they blurt out, and Park looks at them, his face open and concerned. There are a lot of things that RJ didn’t realise were unique about Park until he was gone. The fact that he genuinely cared about RJ, and looked out for them, was one of those.

In many ways, Park is a different man since he came back from Zone Z. But that much hasn’t changed.

“Is…” RJ hesitates, not wanting to give voice to the nagging fear that lurks at the back of their mind – and increasingly, at the front.

“Is there going to be another war?”

Park hesitates, but he doesn’t try to offer up platitudes or empty reassurances. “Not if we can help it,” he tells them.

[memories-are-mine]

Can you pretty please write something with pt being a better dad to Phillip than his actual dad and idk Phillip hurt in some way I think your writings great and I NEED MORE OF ITTTT

 Thank you so much you’re so sweet??? As for hurt Phillip? You got it

WARNING: PHILLIPS PARENTS HIT HIM AND EXPLICIT CHILD ABUSE/MENTIONS OF CHILD ABUSE

See The Other Side Part 2: 

See The Other Side Part 1

Or as I like to call it: Phillip’s parents return from the depths of hell and Phineas and Charity are actually about to kill a bitch.

So I wasn’t actually planning to have a sequel to See The Other Side, but then the opportunity presented itself. So here we are. Wrote with @teddystark she’s amazing and everyone go tell her how cool she is and how amazing her writing is. 

Summary: Phillip runs into his parents, but Phineas and Charity have his back. Phillip realizes he needs something he didn’t really know he needed before.  protective parents pt and charity!!!!!

Word Count: 4177

Enjoyyy!!!!!

Phillip strolled down the unusually quiet New York City street, feeling pretty at peace with things. The circus was doing well, and he was happy. There wasn’t much more that he could ask for. He was alone tonight, as Anne wasn’t feeling well, so he was anxious to get home to her. It didn’t seem like anything too serious, just a headache, but still, he wanted to see if she was okay.

What he had not expected that evening, was for his parents to be out on a walk through the streets as well. Phillip froze when he saw them. It had been some time now since they had last spoken, and he wondered if he could just put on his hat and disappear into the crowd of people that had just flooded the streets, coming out of the theater to Phillip’s left, without attracting their notice.

His wish was not granted.

Phillip froze when his father said his name, his voice full of the anger that Phillip remembered all too well from his childhood. It was the kind of anger that had gotten him bruises that stayed for days, weeks even.  

“Father,” Phillip said, trying to keep his voice from shaking. This was a public street, and he could very well walk out of this conversation whenever he wanted, he told himself. There was no reason to be afraid. Yet, despite his own sound reasoning, his fear lingered.

“We need to talk,” Phillip’s father grabbed him roughly by the arm and pulled him onto a side street, where they could ‘talk’ in peace.

“Whatever about?” Phillip asked innocently, knowing full well what they wanted to say to him. It had been thrown his way half a dozen times. He was used to hearing it all, by now, but this time the circus wasn’t around to protect him from the harsh words.

“Phillip,” His mother’s tone sent a chill down his spine too. Even at the circus, it hadn’t been this bad. And this time, Phillip was alone. “You need to get your head on straight. You need to come home, right now.”

“I have a home, thank you very much,” Phillip said bravely. “And you can’t order me around anymore. Miss having someone to smack around?” As soon as the words left his lips, he knew his parents’ wrath would be uncontrollable. What had happened within their house was not something to be thrown back at them as an insult, especially not in a public place, he had been taught that quite a while ago.

Still, Phillip wasn’t entirely prepared when his father slapped him across the face, hard. He stumbled backward, reeling from the shock of it. No one around them stepped in, knowing all too well that the lives of those in high society were their own to deal with. Phillip was terrified now, not sure what he should say or do. There was nowhere to run.

Phillip’s father caught his arm again, squeezing it so tight it hurt, preventing him from moving back any further. “Did that get your head on straight, boy?” He snapped. “I was hoping you wouldn’t be so defiant without your band of circus freaks watching.”

“We’re doing this because we love you, Phillip,” his mother said. Phillip could hear the malice behind her words as she said them. To Phillip, that was the biggest lie she’d ever told. And she’d told some pretty big lies. Phillip would have laughed if he wasn’t so terrified. “Now, you’re coming home where you belong.” 

“Oh, are you?” He managed. “Because I don’t think you’ve ever loved me. And I will go nowhere with you.”

He didn’t know where all this bravery was coming from, but he was glad that he was no longer such a coward that he gave into everything to please them. He knew bravery wouldn’t get him too far though, not in the face of the influence that his parents held.

His mother’s hand was the one that slammed into him this time. She backhanded him across the other side of his face, so hard that Phillip let out a small cry. He stumbled back further, right into someone. Someone that just happened to be P.T. Barnum, who was glaring at Phillip’s parents with an anger that even they couldn’t rival.

Phineas pulled Phillip behind him, standing between him and his parents.

Phillip felt some of the panic and fear leave, enough for him to be able to think rationally again. He knew Phineas would be able to handle his parents. Still, he definitely was not going to be leaving. His head still spun from the beating, and Phillip wasn’t sure he could make it very far.

“This is none of your business,” Phillip’s father said to Phineas. “Scram.”

“Oh, I believe it is very much my business,” Phineas growled. Phillip had seen Phineas angry at his parents before, when they had come to the circus, but never to this degree. Phineas looked like he was about to actually murder Phillip’s parents with that sledgehammer they had simply joked about the last time. “I don’t know how in this world or any other you could do that to your own son, but if you lay a hand on him again, I swear…” Phineas looked like he couldn’t think of anything painful enough.   

“You would threaten me?” Phillip’s father asked incredulously. Phillip would not have taken any threat to his father seriously either, had it been given a year ago, but now he knew that Phineas would make good on anything he threatened his father with. “How I choose to discipline my son is my decision.”

“HE IS NOT YOUR SON!” Phineas shouted, so loudly that Phillip flinched. His mother and father looked taken aback. “How dare you treat him like that?”

The people on the street were giving them a wide berth now, looking over their shoulders to see the spectacle play out. Phillip’s father seemed to be at a loss for words at the moment, and Phillip hoped it would stay that way. He wanted them both to just go, so that he could be left alone.

Phillip’s mother pushed past Phineas, making her way towards Phillip, who was practically using him as a shield at this point, but another hand grabbed her arm and pushed her back, hard.

Charity Barnum had been with Phineas when they heard the commotion and had promised to wait while her husband saw what was going on, but had come to investigate when she heard the shouting. When she saw what was going on, she understood instantly. It was no secret that the high-class snobs were less than parental toward their own children, Charity herself had experienced it to some degree, but she was lucky. She had never seen it this bad.

And it was Phillip who was subject to it. Charity had gotten the notion that Phillip’s parents had hurt him, but seeing it happen, right here in front of her, made fiery rage boil up within her. She wanted to slap Phillip’s parents and see how they liked it. She wanted to hurt them as badly as they hurt their son.

“I think that is quite enough,” she said so sharply that it actually stung the ears to hear her words. She put a protective arm around Phillip. “You are making fools of yourselves, trying to hit your own child on a public street. What sort of monstrous people do that? Phillip is old enough to make his own decisions, and it is hardly surprising that he chooses to stay away from you. How dare you treat our boy like that. How. Dare. You.” Those last repeated words were filled with such venom that Phillip was surprised that his parents weren’t poisoned.

“You keep calling him ‘our boy’ like he’s your son,” Phillip’s mother said, sounding a bit at a loss for insults to throw at them. “You are not his mother. And we love Phillip.”

“Actually,” Phillip managed to look at his parents bravely, head still spinning, but he managed it all the same. “She’s more of a mother than you ever were. And you do not love me one bit.”

“No mother hits their own child,” Charity snarled. “No mother leaves her son to die in a hospital bed over a disagreement about joining the circus. There is no love in your heart for him, or at all for that matter. And you are not his mother. Now get lost, before Phineas and I decide to give you a taste of your own medicine.”

That seemed to truly get the point across that Phineas and Charity Barnum weren’t going anywhere. And that neither was Phillip. So his parents left, grumbling under their breaths about how he would regret his decision later. Phillip knew that he would not, but he also knew that there was no point arguing with his parents, who had a view of the world that was so twisted that they could not see the good in anyone who wasn’t just like them.

Phillip managed a tired smile for both Phineas and Charity, not sure how he would have managed without them. “I am glad that you came by when you did,” he said, knowing that they would only scold him gently if he tried to thank them.

“I can’t believe your parents,” Phineas muttered, glaring at them with surprising intensity. “I just can’t….” He turned to Phillip. “Are you hurt?”

“I… I’m not sure.” His cheek still stung from where his mother had hit him, and the ring on her finger would probably leave a bruise the next morning.

“Come home with us for tonight,” Charity said gently. “I can look at your face, and you can have somewhere to sleep.”

Phillip hesitated for a moment. “Anne’s sick. I wanted to go check on her. She might worry too, if I don’t come back home tonight.”

“I’ll make sure she knows,” Charity said. “Why don’t you and Phin go on ahead, and I’ll go tell Anne. Your place isn’t far from here. I’ll check on her too.”

Phillip nodded, knowing they wouldn’t let him go on alone. “Alright.”

He hoped Phineas would understand that he really didn’t want to talk about it, but he knew that the chances of that were slim. He reached into his pockets to make sure that he had a few pieces of candy to give to the girls and nodded at Phineas to lead the way.

On the walk back home, Phineas didn’t ask Phillip about what had happened. He knew the boy needed some processing time. He would carefully bring it up later when it seemed Phillip was ready to talk. What he had seen that night made him sick, and he hadn’t even seen the whole thing. Who knew how much Phillip had endured before he had stepped in? He couldn’t imagine what Phillip must be feeling.

When they arrived at the Barnum’s home, Phillip managed a smile for both the girls, handing out the pieces of candy he was carrying. Both girls greeted him with a tight embrace that Phillip admittedly needed right then. They didn’t question why he was there, they knew enough about Phillip’s parents, and when Phineas told them to go back upstairs and play by themselves for a while, they listened without protest.

Phineas walked into the kitchen without a word and brought Phillip a glass of whiskey. It was not necessarily a habit he approved of, but what they had just experienced definitely called for a glass.

Phillip gulped the glass down faster than usual, ignoring the familiar burning sensation it left in his throat. “Thanks,” he said. His hand went up to his cheek, and he blinked rapidly, trying to brush away the memory and everything that came with it.

Phineas watched him carefully, deciding whether or not to broach the subject. He decided that talking was not a good thing right then, so he simply put an arm around him. A touch that didn’t hurt.

“I’ll be alright,” Phillip reassured. He didn’t want anyone to worry. Now that his parents were no longer around, he knew he would be fine, once he had shaken off the unsettling feeling of fear that had made its way into his heart. He hated it, and hoped it would wear off soon. But his cheek still stung where his parents had hit him.

He saw Phineas’s expression and knew he wasn’t convinced. “Phillip…” He didn’t seem to know what to say.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Phillip said quickly. He didn’t need to hear empty words of comfort, even though he knew Phineas rarely used empty words at all. “I was just taken by surprise, that is all. I did not think I would have to see them again, but I was somewhat foolish to believe that.”

“I know I don’t have to say anything, Phillip,” Phineas said gently. “And nobody thought you were going to see them again, not after what happened last time. But Phillip, that couldn’t have been easy for you. Has it happened…”

“Before?” Phillip finished. He hesitated before saying. “For as long as I can remember.” He would never admit it, but part of him actually wanted to talk about it with someone who cared about him. He had never told anyone, not even Anne, how bad it had been.

“What happened tonight?” Phineas asked in a soft voice.

Phillip, as usual, wasn’t sure where to begin. “I saw my parents out while I was walking tonight. I was hoping I could just hide from them, but of course, they saw me right away.”

Phineas nodded understandingly, waiting for Phillip to finish the story. He had a fair idea of what Phillip’s parents would have wanted from him, the same thing they always had, for their son to fall back into the place where they could control him. He was proud of Phillip for having stood up to them.

“When I realized I couldn’t avoid the conversation, I was hoping, since the play had just gotten out and there was a crowd of people around, that they wouldn’t try anything, but they pulled me onto a side street, so that we could ‘talk,’”

Phillip put a lot of sarcastic emphasis on the word talk. Phineas couldn’t blame him. All of the interactions he had seen between Phillip and his mother and father were less than conversational.  

“They asked me to come back home with them, as usual, ” Phillip continued, “When I told them that I didn’t want to, and they really just missed someone to shove around, then…”

He didn’t have to continue for Phineas to understand. He wanted to tell Phillip that the young man deserved better parents, but for all intents and purposes, he considered himself and Charity as Phillip’s parents, not the Carlyles.

“My father was first,” Phillip said. “Then my mother. Although I think you saw my mother.”

Phineas nodded. “You don’t have to explain more,” he said quietly. This couldn’t be an easy discussion for Phillip, and now that Phineas knew how the fight had begun- not that he had any doubt that Phillip was innocent- he could do… something? Not tell the police, they wouldn’t do a thing. But there had to be some way that he could ensure the Carlyles couldn’t hurt Phillip again. The sledgehammer idea was sounding more and more appealing.

As though he could tell what Phineas was thinking, Phillip shook his head. “There’s really nothing to be done about it,” he said, in a voice that showed he had resigned himself to mistreatment from his parents a long time ago. “I do not think anyone can change the way they behave around me, there are very few people who would tell them to change at all. It’s just the way things have always been.”

“That doesn’t mean they should be that way,” Phineas said firmly. His own father had never had much to give him, but he had never treated Phineas with the sort of hate he had seen from Phillip’s father today. “It’s wrong, Phillip. It’s one of the worst things I’ve ever seen. It’s absolutely disgusting. I just wish there was something…”

“I know it is,” Phillip said. “You don’t think I know that? I know it’s wrong but we can’t change them.”

Before Phineas could retort with how that was hardly a correct mindset to have either, that they could figure out a way that they could keep Phillip’s parents away from him, there came the sound of the front door opening, and Charity stepped into the room a few moments later. She smiled at Phillip, ignoring the tension in the room for the moment. “I told Anne that you were going to stay over tonight. She’s doing just fine, and said that you shouldn’t worry about her.”

Phillip nodded. “Alright, thank you, Charity.”

Charity nodded to him with an affectionate, gentle smile. “Phin,” she addressed her husband. “Can you go put our little monkeys to bed while I take a look at Phillip’s face?”

Phineas nodded. “I’ll be down later,” he said, squeezing Phillip’s shoulder as he left and giving his wife a kiss as he passed her.

Charity gathered up some ice in a towel and gently pressed it against Phillip’s cheek. He hissed in pain at the sudden cold, but then the ice started to soothe his stinging cheek and he felt a little better. “Thank you,” he said with a sigh, closing his eyes to shut out the world for a minute.

Charity didn’t ask him to talk about what happened. She understood enough to glean the gist. He could talk when he was ready. Right now he clearly just needed a moment to sort out the thoughts in his head.

“Charity?” Phillip asked abruptly. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, but did your parents ever…”

“No,” Charity said. “My parents were not fantastic, but they never did anything to me as horrible as your parents did to you. They share that same sense of superiority, but beyond that, they simply left me to my own devices. Well, once I married Phin, at least. They tried to control me as a child, sent me to finishing school to teach me to be a ‘proper lady,’ but they never once came and tried to drag me back.”

Phillip nodded, not sure where to steer the conversation. Charity pulled the icy towel away to check his face. It looked better to her now, but there was a small gash that Phillip’s mother’s ring had left. “Oh, Phillip.”

“I’ll get you something to put on that,” she said, but he quickly shook his head.

“It’s fine,” he said.

Phillip didn’t want to draw any more attention to what had happened than what was necessary, and he also didn’t want to be left all to himself, at least not yet.

What he wanted more than anything was a little company. Charity saw it on his face instantly. It was a sort of childish vulnerability that the girls showed sometimes when they were upset. She figured that for Phillip, showing that vulnerability when he was younger had only earned him a slap across the face.

She settled down in the chair opposite him. “Alright,” she said. “Just take care that you don’t get too much dirt on it.”

Phillip nodded. The awkward silence descended once again, and Phillip wondered if he had been wrong to want her to stay. Surely, she had better things to be doing than keeping him company when he wasn’t even talking. Charity looked at his face, and gave him an understanding nod, showing him she knew exactly what he had meant when he had shaken his head and said it was fine. He was most certainly not fine.

“It is like I have always told you,” she said finally, “You always have a place here with us, no matter what. You were brave today, and you should not think any less of yourself because of what happened. If you want to talk about it…”

Phillip wondered if he did. Part of him wanted to retreat under bed covers and hide. Another part of him wanted to spill to Charity. Not just the events of tonight, but everything.

“I wouldn’t know where to start,” he said, as he tried to get the words out. Maybe if he told someone who cared for him as a mother should, someone like Charity, the pain wouldn’t be so…present.

“Start wherever you like,” said Charity patiently. She did not mind waiting, no matter how long it took.

“What happened tonight….” Phillip started. “It wasn’t as bad as most.”

He just started to ramble. He didn’t hold much back. He told Charity about his young life, something he’d never told anyone. He told her about how his parents would hit him, kick him, leave him with cuts and bruises and scars. He told her about how, when they were especially angry, they would lock him in the cellar for hours, even sometimes days on end. He told her about the one time that Phillip had seen his father drunk, and he had been knocked unconscious when he had been hit with a wine bottle.

Phillip hadn’t realized a tear was forming in his eye until it splashed onto the back of his hand. He quickly wiped it away and went on. It wasn’t like he was crying over the hitting. He had gotten used to it long ago. It just felt so good to get out the emotion that Phillip had been trying to drown in alcohol since the age of seventeen. Looking at the love in Charity’s eyes, a love he’d never experienced before this, that was what had made the tear fall.

As Phillip talked, Charity got angrier and angrier. Not at Phillip, of course. Obviously, he had been bottling this up for his entire life, and she was happy to let him talk about it. But she never knew that she could feel this much rage at two people as she now felt at Phillip’s parents. It wasn’t like Charity Barnum to get angry, but boy did she wish that she had punched Phillip’s parents halfway down the block when she’d had a chance.  

“How could they?” she asked. “How could they possibly do that to their own child?” What had happened to Phillip was horrific, and she wished that someone had been there to step in and help. She wondered how someone as nice as Phillip had ended up with parents like that. “You deserved a childhood much better than that,” she said, glaring in the general direction of the Carlyle estate. “Nobody deserves a childhood like that.”

Phillip shrugged. There was no point now, in talking about what he deserved and what he didn’t, the past was gone. What had happened would always be a part of him, and he did not think he would ever be able to face his parents in a civil conversation again, but he was alright with that. “There’s no changing what happened. The girls are lucky to have parents like you who care about them so much. And so am I.”

“And our girls are lucky to have such a wonderful, brave big brother,” Charity leaned over and hugged him tightly. “And Phin and I are lucky that we have a son now.”

Phillip melted into the hug. He’d never really been hugged before he met Phineas and Charity, but now he couldn’t get enough of them. He had never admitted it out loud, but he was sure that Charity had figured out he liked them. Nothing much got past her, it was what made her such a good mother.

“It’s late,” Charity said after a while. She had just held him for a long time, sensing that was what he needed. Per usual, she was spot on. “You should get some sleep.”

Phillip nodded, reluctantly pulling away. “I know what you’re going to say, but thank you.”

“And I’ll say it again,” Charity said gently. “You don’t need to thank us for anything Phillip, it’s what family does. They look out for each other, and nobody touches our boy. Now, go to bed. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Phillip stood. “Goodnight, Charity.”

“Goodnight, Phillip.”

Once he was lying down, it took Phillip a little while to fall asleep. He wondered how it was possible that he was feeling so much better so fast, after what had happened tonight. Maybe it was what he had needed all along, to talk to someone about what had happened to him. Someone like a mother, a mother he’d never had except for when he’d met the Barnums.

Or maybe he was just going crazy.  

Whatever it was, it was more comforting than the blankets on the bed. More comforting than the soft glow of the streetlights outside the circus. More comforting than well… most things really. Except maybe Anne.

Peace washed over Phillip, and he fell asleep knowing that he was safe at home with a family who loved him, and his old life began to just…fade away. 

[pcurrytravels]

Mini-Guide: New Orleans

Good afternoon, y’all! Now, as you all already know, during the last week of May, going into the first week of June 2018, I finally embarked on an excursion to New Orleans. This has long been one of my favorite places in spite of never having actually been there. Suffice to say, the city did not disappoint! I for one am very excited to jot down this guide and some basic tips for you all. I’m even more excited for jotting down my own personal thoughts, but we must get through this first. Anyway, LET’S GO:

The Appeal:

A TON of history, covering a wide-spectrum of topics. A highly-distinctive culture. Fantastic food around every corner (even at convenience stores, believe it or not). Free-flowing liquor to go along with a festive atmosphere. Lots of great music. A number of unorthodox tours and attractions involving topics such as ghosts, cemeteries and voodoo. And just so much more, really. Oh, and need I mention that it’s all very affordable? Especially in comparison to some places (see: California and Vegas)

Top Things To Do:

Sightseeing and Experiences:

- The French Quarter. Because it’s the French Quarter.

- Pick a tour. Any tour (or all of them if you can). There’s tours available for ghosts and hauntings, cemeteries, voodoo, vampires, pirates, neighborhoods, food and culture, etc..... The options are truly endless, and it really is the best way to learn about NOLA.

- Ride all four streetcar lines from start to finish. $1.25 is all you need to tour the city in these historic vehicles.

- If ever you see a second-line or a brass band playing live music, by all means, STOP AND WATCH. Your earbuds will thank you!

- Take a riverboat cruise down the Mississippi for the picturesque scenery, a history lesson from the tour guide on board and the unfortunate sight of still-remaining Hurricane Katrina ruins.

- Try one of a number of famous cocktails and daiquiris; such as Hurricanes, Hand Grenades, Sazerac, Absinthe, etc....

Dining:

Okay, thanks to some conversations I had with the locals, and also being on a budget, I learned that when it comes to trying out New Orleans/South Louisiana specialties, you really can do no wrong. True, there are places that are better than others, but the differences are marginal at best as almost everyone does a pretty good job with the food.

These are my personal suggestions, based on experience, but note that this is merely what I tried and where I had it. By all means, ask the locals when you get there, the vast majority of New Orleanians are very friendly and approachable people:

- Daisy Dukes for Po’Boy sandwiches, Red Beans and Rice, Crawfish Hush Puppies, southern-style breakfast platters and Sweet Tea so good you’ll slap yo mama.

- Cafe Beignet for Beignets, Crawfish Omlettes (sounds weird AF but was actually pretty good, trust me on this one) and Cafe Au Lait. (*Disclaimer: Yes, I am fully aware that Cafe du Monde is THE place to go to for beignets and cafe au lait. However, it was always crowded AF every time we passed by and, not wanting to stand around and wait in that humidity, we opted for this place around the corner instead)

- Cafe Maspero for Gumbo and Jambalaya. Oh, and some stiff Daiquiris too.

- Praline Connection for Pralines.

- Merchant for Crepes.

- PJ’s Coffee for Coffee Granita. (Like a Starbucks Frappuccino but better basically)

- If you take the Creole Queen cruise, the Bread Pudding they serve on board comes highly recommended. Don’t forget to ask for whiskey sauce!

- Brothers Food Mart for Fried Chicken and Natchitoches Meat Pies. Seriously.

- Deanie’s and Oceana Grill for seafood dishes. Now, note I didn’t try either of these places while I was there; however, literally EVERYONE was gushing to me about how great they were, so I’ll be sure to put them on the list for my next visit.

- Oh, speaking of places to eat nearly everyone recommended but I didn’t get around to trying: Mother’s for po’ boy sandwiches and Dooky Chase for soul food. (I need to make a list myself as I definitely plan on going again!)

- It’s also been alleged that Popeye’s in New Orleans tastes better than Popeye’s anywhere else. Although I didn’t check it out for myself, it definitely seems like something to keep in mind.

- Lastly, be sure to try a bag of Zapp’s potato chips.

Neighborhoods To Explore:

- The French Quarter. Pour it up and laissez les bon temps rouler of course, but be sure to learn about the history, admire the Spanish Colonial architecture (contrary to popular belief, hardly any of the buildings in the French Quarter are actually French; it’s a bit of a long story), poke in and out of the eclectic range of shops, stop and listen to the second line, get your fortune read, dodge vampires and search for ghosts while you do.

- Central Business District, or the “American Quarter” if you will. While only physically separated from the FQ by a wide avenue known as Canal Street, in terms of history, culture and architecture, it’s almost a world apart. Now, it may look just like the downtown area of any other American city, but don’t let the generic appearance fool you. There are still a number of superb dining, nightlife and shopping options to be found here; many just as authentically Creole as the FQ. This is also where I would suggest staying if you’re in need of more modern accommodations, as the hotels in the French Quarter are VERY old-fashioned.

- Warehouse District. Like the CBD, only even more local and laid-back. Despite it’s unassuming appearance (well, unassuming for New Orleans anyway), a number of museums and historical landmarks can be found in this area. Oh, and given that this area also doubles as NOLA’s arts district, the artistic and cultural offerings in this neighborhood are nothing to sneeze at either.

- Marigny. Like the French Quarter, but with cheaper prices for everything, slightly newer French and Spanish Colonial buildings, a quirkier, counterculture-oriented vibe and atmosphere, a more eclectic range of nightlife offerings, and less tourists. If you want so see how New Orleanians really get down, then you’ve come to the right place. Be sure to tread carefully however, as there’s some blocks in this area that aren’t very pleasant.

- Treme. If Harlem had a southern equivalent, this would be it. Originally the part of town (or “Faubourg” as the French colonists called it) set aside for free people of color, it has a rich and storied history, what with being the birthplace of Jazz, the nucleus of Afro-Creole culture, the home of Congo Square and the location of St. Louis Cemeteries #1 and #2 respectively. It’s a shame that the area is also a tad dangerous; so while I highly recommend paying your respects at the aforementioned historical sites and appreciating the numerous shotgun houses which dot the landscape, be very mindful of your surroundings; and avoid going at night altogether.

- The Garden District. Across Jackson Ave., you’ll likely notice that things start to look less like Havana and more like Savannah, Georgia. That’s because you’re entering the former domain of wealthy, 19th-century Protestant, Anglo-Americans who had chosen to move to a Catholic, French/Spanish Creole city but wanted nothing to do with the Catholic, French/Spanish Creole people and culture (In regards to their logic? Your guess is as good as mine). Thankfully, all of those snobs are long gone. Instead, should you decide to explore this neighborhood, you’ll be greeted to a number of large and stately homes with adjoining slave quarters from the Antebellum era, most of which fronted by, well, gardens. It also plays host to a much more understated and low-key, but still fairly active, nightlife and dining scene.

- Uptown/Audubon/Carrollton. Beyond the Garden District, with the St. Charles Streetcar bisecting things in the middle, you’ll be treated to this quasi-suburban respite near the parish line, upriver from the hustle and bustle of the French Quarter and CBD (Carrollton actually began its existence as an entirely separate suburb if that says anything). It’s here where things start to look more “normal,” albeit still retaining the NOLA flair with French/Creole naming conventions in use and drive-thru daiquiri bars (that’s not a typo). A number of worthwhile spots for dining, drinking and/or shopping can still be found in spite of the somewhat more modern architecture. Even then, Tulane and Loyola universities are both wonderful sights to behold with their Gothic architecture, and Audubon Park is quite lovely as well. 

General Tips:

Packing:

Okay, I will admit this is a place where I totally screwed up. Although I was aware that New Orleans is notorious for it’s humidity, I figured that, being from Las Vegas and all (another place that gets notoriously hot), I should have no problem adjusting right? Oh boy, how wrong I was. The heat of a subtropical swamp is an entirely different animal from the heat of a semi-arid desert.

Make sure you bring and/or buy a deodorant that you are 100% sure will work for you. Better yet, get an antiperspirant. I learned my lesson about this the hard way. Also: talculm powder and/or powder spray, anti-chafing/anti-friction sticks and/or gels, shoe/foot odor products and wet wipes/moist towelettes. Either pack these things beforehand or find a store to buy them at when you arrive. Trust me, you will need them.

Now, while I did pack sun care and protection items, going off of my experience, it turns out I didn’t really need them as the sun wasn’t the problem there. So I would suggest skipping that unless you plan on taking a dip in the pool. One thing you DO need however is insect repellent. If it wasn’t for the chemicals, I would have kissed my bottle of OFF. I saw close to a hundred mosquitoes, and wasn’t bitten a single time. Thank the lord. I also had a cooling towel and a portable fan, neither of which helped very much, but anything to keep yourself cool, right?

Another place where I screwed up is the clothes. Not only is NOLA culture VERY casual but it’s such a hot, humid climate that unless you plan on dining and/or drinking at somewhere on the more upscale side of things no one really cares how you dress. Light materials and colors, loose-fitting items, shorts, shorts, SHORTS and a basic pair of sneakers and/or sandals are really all you need.*

*Note that my trip to New Orleans was also at the beginning of hurricane season, so my packing tips are largely based off of that time of year. I’m sure another time of year would be a different story.

Weather:

This is a city that was literally built on top of a swamp, so yes, it’s VERY humid. Now, temperature-wise, it never got any higher than 90 degrees when I was there, but the humidity adds about ten to fifteen extra degrees so it doesn’t really matter.

I suggest the following things for dealing with the weather in New Orleans: The minute you check-in to your room, find the nearest store, buy a pack of water and immediately throw the bottles in your room’s fridge and/or ice bucket. You will need them. There’s also no shame in buying a bottle for one or two dollars from one of the self-licensed vendors that can be spotted near all of the tourist attractions (avoid anyone charging more than two dollars however).

“Cooling” items (like cooling towels or portable fans) come highly recommended. Stay in the shade when you can and duck into an air-conditioned space for a few minutes if it all becomes too much for you. Given that it isn’t the type of heat that warms up the air, hand fans really do come in handy. Oh, and no one will look at you funny should you decide to use an umbrella to shield yourself from the sunlight. It is the south after all.

Safety:

Okay, as rich, beautiful and magical New Orleans may be, it’s far from a safe city. Granted, the French Quarter, CBD, Warehouse District, Marigny, Garden District, Audubon and Uptown areas are all pretty safe in the daytime, aside from a select few pockets you wouldn’t really have a good reason to be in anyway. It’s after dark where you’ll be treated to a much different story.

There is safety in numbers. After dark, be sure you are accompanied by at least one other person at all times. Two or more is better. I learned this the hard way by foolishly taking a late-night walk in the area around my hotel in the CBD on my first night there. I had assumed all was fine until I ended up getting verbally assaulted. Thankfully, nothing more came out of the incident aside from some empty threats but still.

If the location of your accommodation is more than a half-mile away and/or you are significantly inebriated, avoid walking or taking public transit to your room at night. Either flag down a taxi or utilize a rideshare service such as Uber or Lyft. NOLA is such a compact city that the fare is unlikely to be very much wherever you are (well, provided you’re not in Metairie or the West Bank).

Be responsible with personal belongings. Keep wallets, cell phones and whatnot in front pockets, hold any purse or bag very close to your person (getting a travel pouch, money belt, passport bag and/or fanny pack would be a very good idea actually) and avoid walking around with an excessive amount of shopping bags. Pay extra close attention if walking on a crowded sidewalk or riding in a packed bus and/or streetcar.

One particularly strange phenomenon in New Orleans is that of shoe hustlers. These people will approach you talking about how nice your shoes are before insisting on making a bet that they can guess where you got them at (key word being “at” and not “from”). Just say “they’re on my feet” and keep it moving. There’s a number of panhandlers and beggars, but most of them are harmless. There’s a few that may cuss you out if you say no or ignore them but that’s about it. Oh, and whatever you do, DO NOT walk around wearing Mardi Gras beads, especially outside of the “Upper” French Quarter (just ask a local what that means when you get there). You’re pretty much asking to get mugged by doing so.

Transportation:

Okay, this is where things get a bit messy. The location of the New Orleans metro area can be described as very awkward at best, being sandwiched on a curvy strip of land between a river and a lake and all. Thanks to this unusual geography, they really had no choice but to place the Louis Armstrong International Airport in the far-flung suburb of Kenner in Jefferson Parish. There’s also no public transit access to speak of aside from two bus lines with unreliable and infrequent service. Oh dear. 

I mean, you could just take a cab.....for a set price of $36 no matter what part of town you’re going to. Or you could do Uber/Lyft.....for about the same price (I thought the whole point of rideshare services was to be cheaper than taxis?). And then you have airport shuttles........which are even pricier. You could rent a car too.....provided you’re willing to navigate 18th and 19th century streets designed for horse-pulled carriages before hacking off one of your arms in order to pay for valet and/or parking. 

Okay, anyway, more about the airport-serving bus lines: As already stated, there’s two of them; the 202 Airport Express under NORTA for $1.50 and the E-2 under Jefferson Transit for $2.00. Both of which pick you up at the airport and drop you off in the vicinity of the Superdome in the CBD. From there, you’re on your own. Thankfully, our hotel was in walking distance from the end of the line so having to transfer wasn’t an issue. If you do need to transfer to another bus line however, keep in mind that you can’t transfer from the E-2 to any buses in New Orleans due to it operating under the agency of a separate parish. 

Ironically, the E-2 is also the one of the two which runs on frequent service (frequent meaning once per hour). The 202 literally only runs five times a day. Seriously. Apparently, it’s primary purpose is to serve airport employees (because everyone there must work the same shift(s), right?). Thankfully, on the day we arrived, we literally came just in time for one of its five daily trips. Now if only we were so lucky on our last day.

Long story short, for some reason the E-2 doesn’t go past the parish line on weekends. We had no choice but to take the E-2 on the day we left as the 202 would have either brought us to the airport way too early or we would have missed our flight thanks to the five-trips-a-day nonsense. We took a long bus ride to the county line, only for the bus to show up and leave a whole thirty minutes before it was supposed to. We ended up having no choice but to share an Uber (that was strangely the same price as it would have been from our hotel despite being picked up at a location WAY closer to the airport) with a nice couple who were just as lost and confused as we were that morning. So, in all honesty, I would suggest holding on to an extra $80 for a taxi and/or Uber/Lyft ride to and from the airport. You’ll save yourself a lot of hassle and confusion by doing so.

As for getting around the city itself? Well, my mom and I paid $9 each for 3-day Jazzy passes and I’m still not sure if we really needed them. Given our hotel’s location in the CBD, we were in walking distance to almost everything. I guess that’s just the beauty of being in a city that was almost entirely designed and developed before the Model T was even a twinkle in Henry Ford’s eye. Oh, and the public transit in the area leaves quite a bit to be desired.

New Orleans’s public transit agency, NORTA, provides bus and streetcar service and, based on my observations anyway, was barely useful. I saw a number of bus stops, and would wait at them for about fifteen or twenty minutes, only to start walking and then see the bus show up just as I had made it to my destination. The bus service is 1.) infrequent and 2.) has the most peculiar routing I’ve ever seen (then again the city of New Orleans itself has the most peculiar street grid I’ve ever seen so that’s probably just a given). So I wouldn’t recommend getting around by the bus, unless you’re staying somewhere like Mid-City, Carrollton or deep in Uptown or the Garden District (which I also wouldn’t recommend, especially not on a first trip). 

Now, the streetcars on the other hand, on top of being an essential part of the NOLA experience, akin to San Francisco’s cable cars, were much more useful. The Canal, Riverfront and St. Charles lines in particular pass by just about every attraction and/or point of interest and, although the French Quarter is a highly walkable area, the Riverfront line is very useful if you want to give your feet a break when going from one side of it to the other. 

All that being said, it isn’t what I’d call reliable. Being operated by overhead, electrical wires, it’s very susceptible to the elements. There was one day of my trip where it rained, with the streetcars going out of order as a result. Of course, that says nothing of how easily a route can be put off by something as minor as a car not being parallel-parked correctly. Oh, and did I mention that they also get jam-packed? Well not the Rampart/Loyola line, but aside from Louis Armstrong Park, the Superdome and the Amtrak/Greyhound station, that one doesn’t really pass by anything worthwhile anyway.

Taking all of this into account, while I still highly recommend riding the streetcar at least once if only for the experience, the ideal way to get around New Orleans is to WALK. Its compact, European-style urban layout makes this very easy. This also lends itself to low fares for taxis and Uber/Lyft rides. You can rent a bike as well if that’s up your alley. But, again, I wouldn’t suggest driving at all. 

Hours of Operation:

This is another area where the city is in a bit of flux. There’s many things that are open 24 hours. There are others that close up early. Most of the drugstores and convenience stores are open 24 hours. A lot of the bars and lounges in and around the French Quarter and CBD open up as early as 10 AM and don’t close shop until 2 AM or later, with a select few being open 24 hours as well. After all, there is no last call or dry hour in the state of Louisiana.

With everything else, it widely varies. For example, a number of attractions don’t open until 10 or 11 AM in the morning only to close by 4 PM. That’s right, they’re only open five to six hours. As we had the 2-Day New Orleans Power Pass, we had to rush through a lot of the attractions (we actually went to the Audubon Aquarium twenty minutes before it closed, not that I really regret having to speed through that one, but more on that later) and after the end of day two barely even took part in half of the listed attractions. So if you want to do any of this stuff, be sure to plan accordingly.

Thankfully, food is very easy to find at all times of day. A lot of restaurants in the vicinity of the French Quarter and/or CBD in particular don’t close down until sometime between midnight and 2 AM. Most cafes open up between 5 and 7 AM. And, given that this is an area rife with hungry party-goers and drunks, 24 hour restaurants are not at all uncommon.

Money-Related:

Out of all the places I’ve been to, I can confidently say New Orleans is the cheapest. There is a lot that can be done on very little money. A disproportionate amount of travel guides and programs on the Travel Channel will insist that you dine at places like Commander’s Palace or Brennan’s, but the fact that I had a fantastic meal of fried chicken, meat pies and french fries for less than $10 from a CORNER STORE should be enough to indicate that one can easily experience this city on a budget. 

Be sure to keep a decent amount of cash on you at all times, as there’s a shockingly large amount of businesses throughout the entire city that don’t take plastic. ATM’s are also plentiful but I would suggest finding one compatible with your bank as the fees can be quite high. 

In Orleans Parish, all goods are subject to a 9% sales tax, including groceries. The latter was a shock for me, being from a state where groceries aren’t taxed. If you happen to be from a state that doesn’t tax groceries, keep this in mind so there’s no surprises.

As far as tipping goes, 15 to 20 percent is the standard for restaurant and bar tabs; unless of course you didn’t open a tab at the bar. In that case, tip $1.00 per drink. It is also nice to keep a couple of dollar bills on hand at all times to tip the numerous brass bands, street performers and tour guides that can be found all over town, but be sure to do so with discretion. 

Miscellaneous:

Restrooms can be very difficult to find. Wherever it is you are eating or drinking, be sure to use their restroom before you leave because it’s probably gonna be a while before you find another one. 

Be sure to pack and/or buy allergy and sinus medicine, or otherwise your nasal passages will not give you a break here.

You also may have been confused by some of the terminology used here, so let me explain:

In the state of Louisiana, counties are called “parishes.” You see, when modern-day Louisiana was absorbed into the U.S.A. back in 1803 (I point out the “modern” part because the territory known as Louisiana was actually much larger back then), there was a massive state of flux going on in regards to national, ethnic and cultural identity that arguably lasted well into the 20th century. The fact that the state’s government insists on referring to its divisions as parishes and not counties is likely a lingering sign of this period. 

Contrary to popular belief, Cajun and Creole are not the same, and although there are Cajun elements present, New Orleans actually falls in line with the latter culture. The reality of the matter is, Cajuns are the descendants of French Canadians that were exiled from Acadia (modern-day Nova Scotia, New Brunswick and Maine), most of whom live in a region known as Acadiana which is west of New Orleans. Louisiana Creoles on the other hand are the descendants of anyone who settled in Louisiana when it was still under French and Spanish rule. Nowadays, the label “Creole” is usually attributed to those of French/African/Spanish/Native American admixture (likely descendants of the fairly large class of free people-of-color that existed in the area prior to the Civil War), but it can actually apply to anyone whose roots in the region can be traced to a time before the early-19th century.

So yes, these are two different ethnic/cultural groups, with much different histories; it would be wise not to confuse the two. There is also a difference between their cooking as well, but it’s a bit......complicated to explain as they have grown SO similar over time. Especially when you consider that very few people outside of Louisiana can even be bothered with the difference in the first place, essentially forcing the Creoles to pander to the stereotype. 

Thanks to the city’s unusual geography (now I understand why it’s called the “Crescent City”), it’s futile to describe anything as being North/South/West/East (example: the so-called West Bank is actually located east of the city). Instead, NOLA operates on its own set of directions. This is something else I would just ask the locals about, as I still don’t quite get it myself. 

Lastly, here’s a handy guide on how to pronounce street names and other things. Trust me, you will need this. Oh, and remember, the streetcar is to always be called the streetcar. Ask for the “trolley” and the locals will have no idea what you’re talking about. 

Well, that concludes my mini-guide for New Orleans. This is a place I honestly think everyone should visit at least once. In the coming weeks, I’ll be detailing more of my personal thoughts and experiences. Until then.