Naked Ladies on Bourbon Street

Let's talk about naked ladies. Well, naked from the waist up anyway. We saw quite a few of them in a pretty short amount of time. Three of the best sightings weren't even on Bourbon--they were on side streets in the French Quarter.

The first shot I got was right on Decatur Street at around 4 in the afternoon. Her husband seemed proud of her:



She was just standing there, whippin' em out apropos of nothing in particular.

The next few sightings came later in the night, around 9:45, on our way to dinner at Remoulade. We only spent about 15 minutes on Bourbon, tops, and that was while walking to and from Remoulade on Mardi Gras night. The crowds were overwhelming, and as the night went on they took on an increasingly drunk and volatile aspect. It was not pleasant, and I can't imagine why anyone spend all night on Bourbon Street as the focus of their Mardi Gras.

There were legions of single men armed with expensive cameras working the crowds like hawks. MizBubs has a sharp eye, and every once in a while she would call out "THERE'S ONE", but usually the flasher had disappeared back into the mob before I could get the shot. I learned to look for knots of people standing stationary in the swirling crowd--at the center of that knot would be a girl going wild. As often as not, the "girl" would turn out to be a middle-aged woman going wild and getting her freak on. Usually with the beaming approval of her husband or boyfriend.

I don't know if you can tell from these pictures, but there was a high ratio of men to women. MizBubs estimated it as possibly 10-1, and I guessed it at nearly that high. There were not many large groups of women, but there were plenty of groups of 5-10 men. Women who flashed and stood in one spot for more than a few seconds were quickly surrounded by dozens of men, some clicking pictures, some gawking, and some actively trying to grope the exposed woman. The scenes had a weird, almost predatory feel at times.

Check out these two girls, spotted by MizBubs:

This was taken a few seconds after the action stopped. There had been exposure, and much fondling of breasts, and French kissing involving the two girls and at least one random guy in the crowd. The voyeurs moved in and started groping, and the next shot I got was blondie breaking into a trot after pulling up her top:



A short distance away was an altogether happier scene involving a body-painted woman and her husband or boyfriend who stood close by arranging photo ops:



Nearby was this young woman, strolling through the crowd getting her drink on with her friend. She'd stop and pose occasionally, but was mostly oblivious to the attention. She never stopped moving long enough to get swarmed.

I thought the random souvenir thong worn outside the jeans was a classy touch.

Every once in a while smaller sections of the crowd would break out in an epidemic of flashing. As part of my ongoing studies (an offshoot of narcozoology) I have identified and named this phenomenon: I now declare that I am a leading authority on the contagion theory of flashing.

After dinner we crossed Bourbon Street and headed back toward Decatur. We met these sweet girls talking with a very drunk man in his 60's or 70's. They were strolling along, talking loudly, on a fairly deserted side street. There was a woman puking against the wall across the street while her girlfriend held her hair, and a couple of gangster looking thugs watching nearby. It did not seem like the safest spot in the world for a girl to walk around half naked. They suggested posing by the pole:

They told us where they got painted, but I can't remember where it was. The old man wandered off, and the girl across the street stopped puking. MizBubs chatted with them a bit and told them to be careful, and we all went our separate ways.

Around the corner we ran into this woman, whose husband hopped out of the way quickly when I asked if I could take a picture:



I can't remember if she was on Royal or Chartres. Just down the street from her we spotted the Titty Taxi (motto "You Show, We Go"). There were a few people around and I thought this might be a perfect spot to catch some exposure.

Unfortunately all the women there were either flirting or negotiating, and my short attention span prevented me from hanging around any longer.

We moved on and witnessed an epic domestic disturbance on the street. It began with a hot woman in a miniskirt getting out of the driver seat of a car and walking past us down Decatur. She slowed down enough to yell "F*CK YOU" over her shoulder. Immediately after that her screaming boyfriend got out of the passenger seat and followed her. I nudged MizBubs back into a doorway as they passed; traffic backed up behind their abandoned auto, horns blaring. A few moments later they trudged back up the street, got back into the car and drove off, still screaming at each other but at least able to drive off together.

We had a drink in a shady little joint on Decatur where something was definitely up. We didn't stick around long enough to figure out what it was. We left there and ended the night at the casino, where the fine waitresses were happy to provide us both with free bourbon as long as MizBubs continued to work the $20 that she had fed into a penny video slot.

The Titty Taxi was nowhere in sight, and we walked back to our hotel, untroubled by domestic disturbances, traffic obstructions or naked ladies.