Walking near the French Quarter last week, I took notice of an idling sedan with smoked out windows and blue flashing lights. Be brave, I told myself, and kept walking toward it. After I passed, trying in vain to peer inside, a trio of construction workers followed me. Is it ice, one asked? Naw, the other said. That car's out of Baton Rouge. It's here all the time.
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A restaurant in the quarter keeps its doors locked now. Next to the doorbell, a sign: We're here, we'll be with you shortly!
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A friend's job saw many staff suddenly stay home due to the random sweeps. The friend has been working to cover shifts, and the supervisor is making sure those at home have food and money.
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At the gym, a guy mentions he's a contractor and has put up "Private Property" signs all around the work site. I park my truck out front, and if anyone comes by I tell them they all have papers, and to keep it pushing.
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Many friends who speak English as a second language no longer feel safe speaking their first language in public, and this includes Europeans.
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