louie

A while ago while walking around the French Quarter I got caught in a Louisiana afternoon thunderstorm. They call it "fat rain" down here. A beautiful thing that has to be experienced instead of described. I ducked under an awning on a corner for a little shelter and ended up talking to this guy. His name is Uncle Louie and he's one hell of a snappy dresser.
I saw him a week or two later in a bar on Bourbon Street. When I'm missing home I go there and ask the house band to play Purple Rain. I guess I miss home a lot because now when I walk in I'm greeted by "Hey, Minnesota!" and it's not long before I hear the beautiful opening chord to my song. So there we sat, a white guy teary eyed about a Prince song and a black man dressed like Uncle Sam, drinking beer and talking about life.
I guess I don't really have a point to this story, other than a month ago this scenario would have surprised me. Now it seems quite regular and expected.