Grinding Back

NEW ORLEANS – Inside, it smells like mold. Outside, the entire French Quarter smells like a dead cat. But the lights came on this week and so, here and there along the street, men prowled again, booze swirled in plastic cups again, and the strippers, the few who found their way back, climbed up the poles.

In Big Daddy's strip club, where a mannequin swings from the ceiling, manager Saint Jones smokes a Marlboro and tries to hold back what is nearly impossible to hold back: the appetites at the door.

"Guys, come back at 5."