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Byline: Julia Reed
When I first took a place in New Orleans, it was on Bourbon Street, in front of a cathedral school and between two enormous gay bars, so that I was awakened in the morning by a tone-deaf nun singing "My Country, 'Tis of Thee" over a loudspeaker, and lulled-sort of-to sleep at night by the competing bass disco beats of two state-of-the-art sound systems. At a restaurant two blocks up, depending on the day, the all you can eat fried shrimp for $4.99 sign was held up by either a white midget or a black drag queen, each wearing the same filthy "antebellum" hoopskirt.
New Orleans has always been a city of striking juxtapositions and ...