Broken down and abandoned food store.
Broken down and abandoned food store.

Chinese Food.

And Po’ Boys. The mix seems a little strange. But, it’s common down here in New Orleans. Unfortunately, the hot food couldn’t keep this old corner grocery store in business. This is one of those pictures that I just couldn’t pass up. On the way to someplace else. The usual thing.

I’ll keep this short and to the point. I’m a little distracted. I’m photographing a political thing. At the little airport, where private and corporate jets land. I’m mostly doing it because it falls right into the old “Fear and Loathing” thing as written by the late Dr. Hunter S. Thompson. And, because I’m a little twisted.


You want to know. I just know that’s it’s killing you. What? What? What?

Alright. I’ll tell you.

I’m going to photograph Donald J. Trump. The Donald. He’s going to fly into the city, get off his private jet, speak to a crowd, and leave. He’ll never leave the grounds of the airport. In this weirdest of all political seasons, this campaign stop may be among the weirdest.

A little background for weird. Understand, that I’m not particularly political. I live in a very blue city surrounded by a very red state. As I’ve written in the past, I live in a Caribbean third world city. Just a few miles outside of the city, lies the Deep South. Those are just facts. No opinions.

The speech starts at 6pm. But, the gates open at 3pm. Between the two, there will be protesters arriving from every possible group.  Likely, a lot of them will be wearing some kind of costume. This is New Orleans, after all. At 5pm, a second line is planned by a group of protesting musicians. Then the big event. The speech.

I think that every local photographer will be there. I think those of us who aren’t really considered to be press  — most of us — are looking for some kind of bazaar and weird picture. Or, a symbol. Or, icon. Past experience tells me that most of us will have more freedom than those of the real working and campaign press who are usually confined to a “press pen,” and apparently are beaten if they step out of it. See Tuesday’s news from Radford, VA.

Radford, coincidentally, is where I started my news career. A billion years ago.