Become a digitalPLUS subscriber. 99 for 4 weeks.


Mardi Gras
New Orleans for the elegant imbiber
New Orleans for the elegant imbiber

It's just past 7 a.m. in the French Quarter, a July morning turning steamy, and on the sidewalk ahead on Bourbon Street, there's a man having some trouble walking. He'll go a few paces, then stop for a long moment to lean in a doorway. As I pass, I glance back for the full picture: mid-40s, bleary-eyed, T-shirt emblazoned with the silhouette of a poledancing stripper and the motto "I Support Single Moms." He calls after me: "Hey baby, have you ..." He seems unsure. "... seen Mikey?" I shake my head. I have not seen Mikey. I plan to continue not seeing Mikey for the remainder of my trip. But the whole week, almost every time I walk down...