A clean up guy story

It’s four a.m. and I just woke up from another job-related nightmare. I was getting up in another hour anyways. Perhaps these painful dreams of work will be exercised from my subconscious if I write them down. I won’t claim to suffer from any form of PTSD., let’s save that for the combat veterans and victims of serious crimes. Still, I’ve seen some pretty fucked up shit in my years of French Quarter employment.

My position? Morning clean-up guy in a couple of dive bars right off Bourbon Street. It’s every bit as gruesome as it sounds. Imagine a melancholy Tom Waits song about mopping up vomit. I’ve been doing this for so long, not only can I tell you that the puddle contains hurricanes and gumbo, but that it looks like it originated from Pat O’Brien’s. It’s not a career for the weak or cowardly. These are some highlights from my cringe scrapbook.

I hose off the sidewalk every morning. Picture Jackson Pollock with a bad stomach virus.  There is no way to feel cool about yourself while hosing off a soiled condom stuck to the lid of the city garbage can. I’ve seen so much blood in and out of the bars, it’s like analyzing a crime scene as I clean. “Janitorial Forensics” as I like to refer to it.  Blood drops and spilled drinks with shoe prints tracking through it all.

Walking into work about 7 a.m one morning, I was greeted by a bartender with a distant dead stare in his eyes. He had a welt on his forehead, and his hair and the objects behind him were splattered with candle wax. I only asked, “Did you kick out a hooker last night?” He silently nodded yes. I felt like Sherlock Holmes.

Years ago, when I worked at the hotel across the street, I was hosing a rather large puddle of dried blood with a trail starting from Bourbon Street, leading to the front of what is now the Ra Shop. As I rinsed the sidewalk, a tooth skipped across from of the water. “Someone was an asshole to the wrong person last night.” A couple days later I ran into a door guy at the club on the opposite corner, his right hand was bandaged. My buddy lamented, “I was aiming for the side of his head, but he turned into it. Sliced my hand on his teeth. He lost a few, hope I don’t catch anything.” I casually motioned to my corner, “He went that way?” A nod of yes confirmed my conclusion.

One might be surprised to find out how difficult it is to hose a butt plug down a gutter. I guess it has to do with how it’s shaped. Where the fuck did it come from? Did it just fall out? Did someone get bored with it and just reach back and pluck it out? Perhaps it just fell out of a pocket, I told myself as many gallons of hose water were used to prompt the bright red sex toy to the sewer grate on Bourbon Street. It should wash out to the river after the next storm and from there, flow down to the Gulf of Mexico where it will lodge into the blow hole of a baby dolphin — IF everything goes according to my diabolical plan.

I find some disgusting things in the gutter as well. One time I found a toe. An actual little toe from a human, like in the movie, “The big Lebowski.” That’s how I recognized what it was. I leaned down real close, rinsed it and looked a little closer — yea, a fucking toe. Didn’t surprise me a bit. We see idiots all the time wearing flip flops, sandals or even barefoot. Good, you deserved it. I won’t wear anything less than Doc Marten on that wreckage-strewn street. Hosing the tiny grayish appendage down the gutter, I amused myself with a lousy John Goodman impression: “You want a toe, Dude? I can get you a toe. Hell, I can get you a toe by three o’clock. With nail polish.”

I pondered if I had any obligation to report it to proper authorities. Nah. Teeth, toes, they don’t care. What if I found an entire foot? Would I phone it in, then? Probably not. I just would pretend I didn’t notice it and let the city workers deal with it. An entire leg? Hm, maybe. Odds are the owner didn’t get very far.

Another morning I walked into the men’s room and stopped dead in my tracks. Looking down right in the middle of the floor. “REALLY GUYS?! I would expect this in the women’s room, but not in ours.” I leaned down and squinted. “Oh wait, it’s just a cigar. Sorry men, as you were.” Ask any janitor, the women’s bathroom is always many times worse.
We’re out of paper in the ladies’ room.”
“No, you’re not. There’s a half a fucking roll strewn all over the floor. Every morning it looks like goddamn mischief night in there.”
This is why I don’t date anymore. I’ve been cleaning ladies’ rooms for so long that I want nothing to do with you nasty assed bitches.  They all act like they don’t even fart, yet there is crap on top of the toilet tank. Somehow the glitter makes it all OK, I guess.

You must stay up with the graffiti, too. If you let one tag slide the next day, there will be three more.  Inspecting the women’s room one gloomy morning I was greeted by “MEN R PIGS” written on our ivory tile wall. Upon examining the scrawl to determine the best removal method, I realized it was in fact written in blood. I chuckled at the irony of this self-own. Do used tampons work like felt-tipped markers? Total lack of self-awareness on her part. I gloved up for the procedure and laughed thinking about a troll response. I should write beneath it: “NO WE’RE NOT” in semen.  That would’ve been counterproductive to my job, though. Besides, I’m not that young anymore. Maybe I could’ve squeezed out enough to write just “NO.” Not nearly as clever.

Why did I wake up this morning screaming? Have you ever had to plunge a fetus? There is no coming back from that.

Red Dress Run 2023 (PHOTOS)

All photos by Eric T. Styles
Crowds of people wearing red dresses flooded Marigny, Bywater and the French Quarter on Saturday for the annual Red Dress Run. Usually held on the second weekend of August, it’s technically a race that you register for, with the proceeds going to support charity — although no registering doesn’t necessarily preclude participate.

Many just said “fuck it,” and decided to don a skimpy red garment and proceeded to get wasted early this morning. Were you one of those people? Let us know.

Molly’s and The Dive Bar to host Irish Halloween Wake Party for Erin Churchill memorial

A second line funeral just doesn’t seem special enough for a soul who was friend to so many people. To remember the life Erin Churchill, Molly’s Irish Bar and the Dive Bar on Toulouse Street are hosting a memorial event for Erin from 4 to 6 p.m. tonight — although there’s nothing stopping you from carrying on the celebration into the night (and we hope that you do). Food will be available for those who attend.

Erin was born the day before Halloween in 1964 and the holiday was her absolute favorite day of the year. She was also a supporter of The Quarter Rat. Erin passed away on May 21 at 58 years old after a battle with cancer. Erin’s obituary is posted on schoenfh.com. We’re going to miss her a whole helluva lot.

As the owner of Molly’s Irish Bar on Toulouse Street, every year they hosted the local’s favorite Halloween party.

So what does a French Quarter Irish Bar do to celebrate the passing of our favorite person? An Irish Halloween Wake Block Party. The Superdome wasn’t available, unfortunately, and we were denied a block party permit due to Toulouse Street being a busy street, and it’s a Sunday. That doesn’t this event won’t be special.

Costume summertime appropriate and optional, but HIGHLY ENCOURAGED. Bring your trick-or-treat bags. We are trying to keep everyone together and cool as possible! So much love too everyone! We’ll see you there.

Large oak tree branch falls, injures teen in Jackson Square

Photos by Eric T. Styles
A male teenager was critically injured after a large branch of an oak tree snapped off and fell on him Friday afternoon in Jackson Square.

The teen was rushed to the hospital, where he received treatment for his injures. His condition isn’t known at this time.

It’s not clear what caused the large branch to break off from the tree. Witnesses at the scene heard screaming and a crowd gathered at the scene to and pulled away debris in an attempt to rescue the teenager.

Shortly after the incident, a bucket truck was at the scene, where workers were seen cutting down the rest of the tree.


I’ve made and posted some pretty vicious memes in my days and done time in facebook jail for it. I would never call myself a “Meme lord,” because even I have a warped sense of decency. I will admit I have chuckled at a couple of memes this morning about the unfolding story of the missing submersible. Most have a “Rich white people problems” spin to them. I also see the ones who post those memes. Often the same individuals post virtuous memes about “love, human rights, equality, fairness, compassion etc.”

Thier delight and vitriol over five people suffocating is both disturbing and revealing. They always make it a point to mention that they are billionaires. I can’t afford to fly to Europe, I never will be able to afford it. I would not take delight if a loaded airliner on its way to Europe crashed killing all aboard. “Ha ha! Rich people dying! They deserved it.”

A little kid gets trapped in a well and the entire world stops and hopes for the best. Rich people get trapped in a sub, the world counts down the hours until they are dead while joking about it. That is as disturbing about humanity as joking about the death of a homeless person. We’re all supposed to be equal, right?

“$250,000 for a tourist trip to the wreck of the Titanic? That’s outrageous! They could have fed hungry people with that money!” OK, fine. You spent $5,000 on a trip to Mexico? You could have donated that to a food bank. $150 for a concert ticket? You could have spent that on sandwiches to hand out to the homeless.

It was a stupid idea. Yea, a lot of “cause of deaths” can be attributed to that. Skydiving, rock climbing, hot air balloon trips to the power lines and street racing. I’ll admit I do take delight in watching videos of street racers wrapping their egos around a tree. Whether it be a millionaire in his Lambo or some idiot teen driving his mom’s minivan who played too many video games and watched too many ridiculous car chase movies. The only drawback to their stupidity is the fact they sometimes kill others in their reckless acts.

I bet if Kieth Richards was on that sub these very same people would be screaming for the U.S. Navy to drain the ocean to save his wrinkled old ass. His net worth is about $500 million, I never hear anyone bitch about that. I’ll never live to see him die; I wish I could just to watch the meltdown. I guess only some of the bourgeoise lives matter.

If you are finding a sadistic joy watching this unfold, have fun because we all know how it will end. I’ll just chuckle without comment the next time you post outrage over a death and a rant about the importance of human life.