mogget_cat | OOM: Emcee, Sinric, and Yrael Experience New Orleans

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Yrael grins, holding the shiny, plastic Mardi Gras coin in his hand as he turns the doorknob and opens the door for his guests. The door opens upon a narrow city alleyway just off a larger road with quite a few pedestrians walking along it, the mid-afternoon sunlight slanting down through the humid, sea-scented air. The sounds of conversation, of laughter and of lively music reach them, enticing.

Their entrance is partially sheltered from the alley mouth by a fire escape, so no one notices the three of them arriving from nowhere. The pale man in white smiles at Emcee and Sinric, holding his arms wide as he leads them from the alleyway onto Bourbon Street.

"Welcome to New Orleans, my friends."

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Emcee steps through, holding Sinric's hand.

The humidity is what strikes him first, as he remembers that evening in Shreveport. But here he can smell the sea, and that makes all the difference somehow. (Luckily he's dressed for it, opting to remain shirtless with just a waistcoat.)

The voices and music grow louder as they follow Yrael toward the mouth of the alley. And when they step out onto the street, Emcee's smile grows wide.

It's the perfect time for the lights to be on, for people to be out and about. There's the smell of food wafting through the open doors of restaurants and cafes. And the sound of music coming from seemingly everywhere at once. Emcee immediately wants to pick a melody and follow it to its source.

"This is marvelous!"

Dressed in a simple white shirt, tied at the waist and simple black linen 3/4 pants, gold painted nails and his hair up in gold shot braids, Sinric looks even more gender ambiguous than normal.

He clings happily to Emcee's hand, his eyes wide. The humidity and the sea air hits him like a wave.

But the music makes him smile and he breathes in deep, letting the new smells wash over him.

It's a pleasant afternoon, even for early spring, the sea breeze bringing warmth from the south. The air smells of the sea, creole and cajun spices, of fragrant smoke and - it must be said - city, with everything that entails. New Orleans is a place full of life, in all its forms. And something about it slows one's step into a peaceful swing, buoyed up by the city and its spirit.

Like a proud patron showing off, Yrael leads them in an easy wander down the street, pointing out places they might stop back by later in the evening. In between shops of oddities and curios, pipe and cigars, specialty antiques and brightly-colored touristy trinkets, the music venues crowd for space - the Blue Nile (where Yrael likes to keep an eye on up-and-coming jazz artists), the brightly-colored Oz (joyously advertising the live telecast of RuPaul's Drag Race, as well as their own shows and competitions), Club Bourbon Heat (promising cool jazz on the ground floor, and a pumping dance beat on the upper floors), the Republic cabaret club (where, Yrael promises with a grin, Emcee will feel right at home), and the quintessential and easily recognizable House of Blues.

Music - dance beats to swing one's hips and blues to stir one's heart and jazz to move one's soul - spills out into the street each time a door opens, showing colorful lights and movement within, but the streets themselves are not bereft. A serenade is to be found on every corner they pass. Most of the scattered musicians raise a hand to Yrael when they see him, and he returns the wave with a smile. In between bouts of making a clarinet wail so sweet, a woman seated at a street corner flutters her fingers cheekily at Yrael, who grins and returns the wave.

"Doreen is undisputed queen of the jazz clarinet in this part of the world," Yrael explains to Sinric and Emcee, offering the woman a grinning bow, which just makes her laugh and shoo him away with a fond, "Scat, cat!" before the next song begins.

Edited Date: 2016-03-22 03:27 am (UTC)

It's all so overwhelming, but in the best way possible. A whole world has opened up, and Emcee wants to take it all in.

He agrees that they should indeed stop by some of these places later, as he cranes his neck to peek inside Oz as they stroll past, and wonders what the Republic will have in store. The House of Blues is literally unlike any house he's seen.

And the music, oh, the unending stream of music. Emcee likes how at home Yrael seems among it all, and how some of the street musicians know him. The music ties everything and everyone together.

And the sound is astoundingly familiar, as can be seen by his utterly delighted expression at each band they come across. When he slows to watch a jazz combo playing some rollicking ditty, there is no mere strolling past this without moving to the rhythm. There's a bit of a Charleston swing in his step as he lets the music do its thing to him, and he laughs when the musicians take notice, the trombonist in particular directing his playing at him with his instrument. Emcee grasps Sinric's hand and twirls him for the sake of twirling him.

Sinric can't seem to take it all in, his long hair sweeping as he tries to look at everything at once.

The bright colours catch him and he relies on Emcee's grip on his hand to stop him from straying away from them.

The music makes him smile brightly, his light feet finding the beat as Emcee twirls him around. He doesn't recognise the song but by instinct, he lifts his voice in a sweet and wordless song.

See, street musicians like it when people dance to their music. Even apart from being a clear sign of an audience's enjoyment, dancers make the musicians more visible, and more likely to draw larger crowds. And that means more money being dropped into the open instrument cases in front of them. More people wandering by and purchasing CDs of their music from the little display case, directly contributing to more music getting made. As well as little things like groceries and rent, of course.

Yrael grins, watching Emcee and Sinric for a moment before offering his hand to another spectator looking like she's getting into the music. Likely in part because the tourist had taken the name Bourbon St. as an instruction, she cheerfully accepts his offer and they join in the dancing, moving to the contagious rhythm. Soon a few other couples join them: two young women looking for an excuse to dance, a father with his small child in his arms, bouncing gently and holding the child's hand as though they were dancing. The child's laughter is a bright sound.

It is a good moment in the warmth and the sun and the music, and the musicians try to lengthen it as much as they can. But all songs, by their very nature, eventually come to an end. It ends with a triumphant blast from the brass instruments, leaving the relative silence afterwards ringing in one's ears for a second or two before the applause starts. The lead singer of the little group of musicians comes forward, grinning, to work the crowd and shake the dancers' hands.

There really is nothing like spontaneous dancing and the joy that it generates, and watching it spread to other people as they let their inhibitions go is what gives Emcee life.

And so eventually the song ends with a round of applause and cheerful laughter. While Emcee regrets that he has no modern currency to give, he sees that the band's instrument cases have been filled with enough donations, for this time around, at least.

He clasps the singer's hand in both of his. "That was wonderful, my good man," he gushes with delight.

The crowd moves on, naturally making way for the next wave of passersby and the next song. (It never occurs to Emcee that he and Sinric are probably in the background of a dozen or so tourists' videos and photos.)

Sinric hangs back, a little shy in this strange crowd. People do seem to be pointing a lot of rectangular things he doesn't recognise at them.

One of the musicians offers him a string of bright plastic beads and a kiss on the cheek, making him blush sweetly.