The Parties Don't Stop Until 8am In Shreveport, Louisiana. (8 March 2019)

I've been driving all day. I've decided to stop here in Shreveport. Today was busy. I got lost when I first got here. I drove over this huge steel bridge that leads into Downtown Shreveport called the Long-Allen Bridge. It stretches over the Red River, which is really muddy. It's actually a shade of crimson with a bit of brown mixed in. I haven't seen an alligator yet, but I have seen a combination of other critters. Most of them road kill. I saw an armadillo for the first time which was interesting. They look so strange. It's almost as if they've come from another era in evolutionary history. People hunt them out here. I don't think they'd be that good to eat, and it's probably more for sport. I spent the entire day walking around downtown. I took photos of all of the statues and art I saw. There is a lot of history in Shreveport. Especially behind the music. I was surprised by how empty the streets were during the day. There was one car driving around during the day, and a few people walking from the coffee shop to their apartments and back. I don't think I've ever seen a downtown that dead before. In every other city, even the smaller towns, the downtown areas are lively. But, I figured out later that the city doesn't start until like two in the morning. The bars stay opened until six. I asked a bartender, a cute, fit girl with curly hair, what time they stopped serving alcohol, and she said, "When every one leaves." I was like, "Hell yeah!" I'm going to like it here in Shreveport. I wanted to see some live music, so, I was going to go to every bar Downtown. The first bar I went to was a jazz bar with really nice tableware and a stage by the door. The bar was empty except for two older black men who said, "We don't have any food," as soon as I walked in the door. I told him that I didn't want food. I wanted to hear live music, and he told me that they didn't have any acts booked for that night. I walked back into the downtown air. The weather was nice, and it wasn't too hot. It wasn't pouring down rain either, and the sun was out. I walked to this place called the Missing Link. They sell a variety of hot dogs and specialty french fries. I bought a few beers and an order of crawfish french fries. They were good, but the restaurant skimped out on the crawfish. The bartender told me that crawfish are very expensive, and kind of hinted at the reason why the crawfish were so skimpy. She had purple hair and a nose ring just like the bartender in Dallas, Texas. They didn't look alike, but they had a similar style. A kind of modern punk mixed with a little downtown hipster. Later in the night, we took a photo while we were on the patio smoking cigarettes. We had good conversation, and I liked her a lot. She said that she had a daughter, and that she's not from Shreveport originally, but she's been here for a few years. The cook in the back brought out some garlic fries that she said she'd made for a customer who changed his order last minute. I told her that I didn't want to walk around all day with garlic breath, so I passed. The bartender scarfed them down. She told me that if I'm interested in listening to live music that I should go to the bar across the street. After paying my tab and a quick cigarette break, I walked over there. When I was halfway across the street I could hear the music pouring out from the door and windows. I felt the kick drum before I even walked into the bar, and the resonance from the cymbals enticed me closer. The place was half full, and there wasn't a chair at the bar. I walked over to the bartender and ordered a Guinness. I talked to a military vet who was on a date. I asked him about his workout regiment and his diet. He told me that he works out everyday and that he drinks a gallon of water every day. I was buzzing by this point, and I asked him to be my dietitian. They both laughed. The bartender brought me my Guinness. I grabbed the dark, chocolatey beer, and I walked over to the cigarette vending machine in the adjacent game room with a pool table, dart boards and a group of Germans playing darts. I stood in front of the dart boards, and said, "C'mon, shoot." We all laughed. After purchasing my pack of Marlboro reds I got a table right in front of the stage. The band was talented. It was a simple band, a guitarist/vocalist, a bassist, and a drummer. The guitarist had a shaved head, and he was about forty years old. The other members looked much older. I learned a little bit about blues drum patterns. It's actually a really simple pattern. (Basically, a kick-snare-kick-kick-snare pattern.) He played that same drum pattern the entire night; for every song. There were only slight variations with each song. They were really good, and I even told the vocalist that I think he has an impressive voice and that he's really talented. They played "On the Dock of the Bay," and they did it perfectly. There was a tall older man with silver hair and a Hawaiian button-up who sat by the door all night. He stood out to me for some reason. He looked like he was retired and ex-military. He held himself in a way that made him seem powerful. Maybe he owned the place. He got on the microphone while the band was on a break around two or three in the morning, and said, "If you're going to leave, you should leave now," a few seconds passed without anyone getting up to leave, and, then, "Okay, only the cool people are here now." The band came back into the bar just as the older man lit up a huge cigar, and began scrolling his cellphone screen. At first, I couldn't see the screen on his cellphone until he turned in his chair. I saw that he was scrolling his cellphone with photographs of young girls posing half nude in their profile pictures on the screen. He was scrolling through the girls as he smoked his big cigar. It didn't seem like he was hiding it much either. It was as if he was shopping on Amazon.com. The band played for a while longer, about two or three songs, and I decided that it was time to leave. As I walked out of the bar, I saluted the old guy for some reason. I went back out to the morning air of downtown Shreveport, and walked towards my car. I was surprised by how many people were outside. It's like the city doesn't come alive until the early morning. It was such a dramatic contrast between the daytime. The streets were packed with people! I was already buzzing at this point, but I wanted to drink more. I had a bottle of gin in my car, and I filled up my water bottle with a few shots of gin. I went to where all of the people were at on the corner across from Long-Allen Bridge, and I took photographs and stood next to the burrito stand talking to people. There was a black club across from the burrito stand that was packed with people. There were a few girls in these bright neon colored dresses that hugged their bodies, and they looked like whores. Whores or strippers. I said, "What's up, ladies?" And, one turned to her friend and said, "Don't talk to that white ma' fucka'." I was kind of shocked by the blatant racism that this girl had just demonstrated right in public, and for no reason at all. I just said hello. I didn't call her a whore then although I was thinking it. The burrito stand played music out of a boombox on the floor, and I was entertained for a short time, but I began to feel tired, and I walked back to my car. I slept there for the night until the morning. It's always better to just sleep it off, and drive in the morning after you're sober. I plan on going to this cajon restaurant today or tomorrow. Right now, I need a beer. Time to hit up the Dominos.