milliways_bar | Milli-timed to Tuesday the 28th

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Milli-timed to Tuesday the 28th - New Orleans Mardi Gras

The bar room of Milliways is always full of sound - the clatter of dishes and clink of glasses, chairs being scooted back or further in, footsteps upon the floor, rats squeaking, the background murmur of conversations overlapping one another.

But tonight the main door to the bar opens to the mouth of an city alleyway, to a caucophony of noise and music, full of seething crowds and colorful parade floats, the smells of food and sweat and smoke and beer and those colorful fruity drinks sold in yard-long plastic glasses with umbrellas in them. Mardi Gras is in full swing and New Orleans has outdone itself this time.

Yrael enters, trailing laughter from a section of the crowd on the other side. His white hair is decorated with purple, gold and green feathers, his pale face partially hidden by a sharp, glittery cat mask of gold, behind which his green eyes are bright. Over his white shirt this evening he wears a shiny waistcoat of purple, gold, green, and black. It's clearly party time, big time, show time -

"And then some!" he grins, seeing Milliways. "Fat Tuesday is upon us, Milliways! Welcome to Mardi Gras! Come, dance, explore! Laissez les bons temps rouler!"

Yrael will make sure the door stays open for any party-goer who would like to partake in the joie de vivre, and the Bar can certainly provide a change of costume...

(ooc: The post will be open all weekend and into next week as needed! Usual party-thread guidelines apply! Tag in! Threadhop! Meet new people and get into trouble! :D Yrael will be around, but his mun will not be able to tag much until Monday evening. <333333)

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"Hence, not to be recommended," the doctor concludes. "Let's stick to alcohol."

"Much for the best", James agrees. "Do you have any favourite places, in this town?"

"The club where Yrael tends to perform," Dr. Lecter says at once. "I'm sure they'll put on some special live performances for Mardi Gras."

"And what type of music is performed there?"

"It's called jazz," Dr. Lecter says, "and is basically African inspired music on European instruments."

"It was brought here by those used to such music?" he guesses.

"In your time," Dr. Lecter says, "black people were already being abducted from Africa and sold as forced, unpaid labour on an industrial scale. All these people brought with them disparate cultures and traditions which they tried to keep alive, somehow, by mixing and hiding them, and making them seem harmless to their white oppressors. In population centres such as New Orleans, that state of cultural emergency brought forth something unique, vivid, strong and infinitely creative and compelling -- a culture that kept fascinating even the white settlers, generation after generation. Ragtime in the late 19th century grew into jazz in the 20th, and finally hip-hop in the 21st. New Orleans, however, still sticks to the traditions and innovations of jazz."

"Yes, I knew the first part." He never liked it very much, but couldn't do a lot when it was legal. "I suppose allowing them to have something they enjoyed might have been considered a way to prevent them rising up."

"I only paraphrased it differently," Dr. Lecter says, a note of apology in his voice, "to shift the perspective on the source of this cultural richness and creativity. And yes, if their white 'masters' had tried to suppress that culture, there would have been violent uprisings of a desperate population that had absolutely nothing left to lose."

He nods in acknowledgment of the apology.

"Many people in my time never saw for themselves how brutal it was. There were never very many slaves in the British Isles, and they would be liveried house servants."

"Still, it's amazing to see how from such brutal circumstances sprang the very lively black culture that even after centuries continues to inspire mainstream culture worldwide," Dr. Lecter says. "It is a great testament to the creativity of human culture, and that life will always find a way."

"And rather good music besides", he says lightly, glancing towards a nearby bar with people spilling out of it.

"If the music wasn't that good, it wouldn't have won that many enthusiasts," Dr. Lecter says, smiling. "Shall we just pop in there for a moment?"

"If we can find space, by all means."

He's already turned towards the door.

People are leaving at this moment, so Dr. Lecter makes his way in on their reverse wake.

"Was it ever this full where you are from?" he asks Norrington while making his way to the bar.

"Not as a rule. Some establishments will be busier than others, but never to this extent."

Dr. Lecter makes his way through the crowd and to the bar with an almost uncanny skill, upsetting nobody and nothing.

The music is loud, vivacious, and infused with insuppressible good spirits.

"Two Sazeracs, please," he tells the barkeeper. "This is the most traditional mixed drink of New Orleans these days," he carries on, informing Norrington.

Edited 2017-02-28 15:26 (UTC)

"And what goes into a Sazerac?" he inquires.

"Aniseed liqueur, bitters, rye whiskey, and a twist of lemon," Dr. Lecter says. "We can see it being made."

The barkeeper first fetches two glasses from the freezer, then starts mixing the drink.

James watches him, quietly impressed with his showmanship.

"It's almost a performance."

"Oh, it is," Hannibal says. "Mixing drinks is definitely a spectator sport, and a barkeep in a place like this is as much showman as he is expert."

"Is there a guild for this kind of thing? Training the next generation?"

"Not that formally," Dr. Lecter says. "But there is a certain handing-on of traditions, let's say. Hopefuls do train with masters."

The drinks are finished now and put before them. Dr. Lecter pays in crumpled green paper money.

That's one of the less remarkable things he's seen around here.

"And the names of the masters are spread by word of mouth?"

"And articles in magazines, mentions in guide books, and maybe even their own books of cocktail recipes," Hannibal says.

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