The Saddest Sight of All in New Orleans

Looking at a lone white baby shoe on the side of the road won't make anyone smile but a sight sadder than that is an abandoned walker leaning against a fence for someone to take.  New Orleans is a city that runs the gamut of the human experience but this walker is the saddest sight of all that I've seen this week.

One of the saddest sights of all in New Orleans.

I saw this abandoned walker leaning against a fence on North Tonti Street in New Orleans' 7th Ward.  

We can all imagine why a walker would be left out in the rain and unattended for four days, waiting for someone to drive by and take it to a new home.  None of the scenarios that first come to mind are very pleasant.  They all involve someone not needing it anymore, usually for a reason more toward the zero end of the scale, ten being they got up, danced a jig, and walked two miles to Antoine's for a celebratory dinner.  Something tells me that the previous owner of this walker didn't dance a jig this week.  Call it a hunch.

I was walking our dog when he and I came across this abandoned walker.  He spent a long time sniffing it.  He wanted to pee on one of the legs but I stopped him.  We moved along.  Based on the amount of time my dog spent sniffing the walker, I suspect I am in the minority of dog-walking citizens who are cognizant of the karmic consequences of letting a dog pee on an abandoned walker.  Call me superstitious but I just find the very idea to be disrespectful.  

An abandoned walker truly is the saddest sight of all in New Orleans but it also an uncommon sight in this wonderful city we call home.  I come across an abandoned walker once maybe every 16-18 months, maybe every two years.  They rarely stay on the street for long.  Someone, somewhere always has need of a walker.  We all will need one someday, probably.  For now, let us be grateful for our God-given good health.  It could be a lot worse.

When the dog and I reached the intersection of North Tonti and Columbus Streets, we ran into a guy who calls himself "Montana."  I doubt that's his real name but that's how he introduces himself.  The first time I met him, he told me to call him Montana because, "I'm from Montana," he said.  I call him Montana.  Everyone does.

The dog barked the whole time I talked with Montana, who stayed on the opposite side of North Tonti Street, to be out of reach of the leash.  The dog doesn't like Montana.  The dog doesn't like many people unless they have salami in their pockets, but the dog really, really, really doesn't like Montana.  During the whole conversation, the dog strained at the leash, he was on two legs, barking, barking, barking the whole time with teeth bared at Montana.

"Have you seen an abandoned walker around this part of town?" Montana asked me.

"It's two blocks that way, leaning against a fence on the lakeside of the street," I said as I pointed uptown.  "It is the saddest sight of all in New Orleans," I added.

"Thanks," Montana said.  "I've got a customer for that appliance.  An old lady on D'Abadie Street broke her hip so she'll be needing a walker.  I'll bet I can get fifteen bucks for one in good condition."

"Make sure you wash it thoroughly, first.  I think some dogs have been disrespecting it."  I said.

Montana said, "Will do, baby.  Will do.  I don't deal in any tainted merchandise.  Mr. Montana stands behind everything he sells.  I'm an honest businessman."

The dog didn't stop barking the whole time Montana and I were talking.  Once Montana left our company in pursuit of the abandoned walker, the dog pulled me downriver along North Tonti Street.  Someone had abandoned some half-eaten chicken wings on the sidewalk in the 1700 block.  Half-eaten chicken wings tossed on the sidewalk are common in this part of New Orleans.

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