American Dreaming - The People, The Hustler

“If your ever in a new place and you hear the sound of Bagpipes humming through the air you better think twice before following the sound” Lee Patrick Wilson, American Dreaming

Its Sunday Morning and the sun is up, its early, before 10.00am we have jet lag and can’t sleep arriving in New Orleans only the night before. We take a tram down to Canal Street and arrive on the banks of the Mississippi we are excited to be there in this historical American city. We walk along the Riverside, its quiet other than a few early morning joggers and homeless people who lay in the street sides sleeping.

We hear the sound of Bagpipes piercing the air and head towards the sound, which with hindsight unless you’ve done your research and know that there is an event on I learnt that day never follow the sound of bagpipes, as we turned a corner and headed up a walkway infront of Jackson Square at the artillery park a homeless man stands playing his highland serenade. We aren’t the only ones to follow the sound, a few other tourists have been lured by the pied pipers hypnotic Scottish verse as we stand around looking a little puzzled, abruptly as they began the bagpipes stop and the air falls silent once again, as the piper holds out his hat for tips.

At that point a golden toothed, bandana headed, white vest wearing, tattoo covered, gang member stereotype has stepped from nowhere directly in front of me and starts talking at me, I look at his face confused as my brain hasn’t yet triggered that it’s a rap he’s performing at me and I think he’s talking to me. I stand perplexed, I look at my wife, I look at him, I’m half ready for conflict as he is so close to me and his behavior is unwelcome, as he dominates my space & my attention, he keeps his hands up so I can see them which relieves a little tension, but still I’m half expecting to be sticking the nut on this guy in a seconds more time as fight of flight reactions ignite within me, this is not an invited exchange. Then he steps back perhaps reading my tensed body language, maybe he’s going to pull out a gun and shoot me, or stab me, thankfully he talks some more at which point I realize he’s rapping, a private rap show for me. As I realize this to my alarm he drops down to my feet, I’m wearing a brand new set of Chucks which are gleaming white in the morning sun, he pops out a rag and some spray and wets the toes of my Converse, he looks up and says “one or two” and I’m just confused. Thinking what the hell is going on, in my delay to answer he makes the choice for me “two” and sprays the other tip of my shoe with God knows what, he then proceeds to shoe shine my shell toes and that isn’t a euphemism. He jumps back up and declares “10 Dollars” as he points to one of my now wet, streaky smudged Converse and then points to the other equally tainted shoe “10 Dollars”, “that’s 20 dollars” he claps his hands, raps some more and says “I gotta get paid” and mutters that “at least this keeps him from crime” as a final persuasion, he then stops and stares at me eagerly, not friendly, waiting for the money, like a coiled cobra his eyes connect to mine. Now at this point I could give him some short two worded advice starting with F and ending in Off, but thankfully I think better of it. Luckily in my pocket I recall I have three dollar bills and some change from the tram fare, I don’t fancy taking my wallet out in front of this guy or saying no to him at this point as now no one else is around, even the pied piper bag pipe player has gone and this guy seems desperate, so I grab the content of small bills and change from my pocket and I slam the lot into his hand, I then grab my wifes hand and get out of their onto the main street. I hear him behind me shouting “oh man that’s 3 dollars, you owe me 20” I don’t look back to continue the debate and we break out onto the road side of Jackson Square and continue on with our early morning sightseeing, somewhat confused by the face to face hustle we have just experienced and now eager to change my footwear.