I am Alice, though not blonde and small. I am of average height, coppery brown wavy hair, and warm amber eyes that I sometimes warn people with. I fell down the rabbit hole eight months ago.
By rabbit hole, I mean Bourbon St., New Orleans, Louisiana; and by fell, I mean my entire life was crashing around me. I had lost my job (not that I loved it to begin with), and lost my apartment as well. To add to the chaos, the very aspect of my life that mattered the most was now to be threatened and possibly taken from me. It was early November, a greying chill in the air month, but it seemed far darker and colder to me. I could not run from the problems facing me so I had to fight through them, but realizing this made me want to actually run, so I did. I ran a hour everyday after I dropped my son at school and before I went to put out more job applications. Instead of crying or screaming or curling up in a hole to die, running seemed to ease the pain I was in. It would soon put me in shape for what was to come.
The Rabbit Hole, that glorious fricken hellhole known as Bourbon Street, New Orleans. My ex, a local musician, convinced me to go put out applications at the local bars and restaurants to get some fast flowing cash in. I actually took on two jobs at once: secretary during the week and server by weekends. And so I fell, I guess.
Bourbon Street carries a reputation of danger and sex and fights and the biggest parties in the USA. I was at a point, though, in which little else scared me. The most important part of my life was being threatened and I had lost nearly everything, so what could Bourbon Street possible do that could be worse? That was my reasoning to take the job there, nothing could be as bad as what I was already in.
So I made the jump, and landed in a strange world. I'm not even remotely kidding, Bourbon Street is strange. People walk around half naked for pictures, women wear pasties for pictures and tips, Demons are performing to Queen on the corner of St. Ann and there are metallic people standing in front of a few bars. Every weekend the local Christian group brings a large white cross to the center of Bourbon Street and shouts warnings of sin and Bible verses over a megaphone. On the same nights there is at least one counter move from a local, whether it is the man holding a chicken and a sign saying "pet my cock" standing right in front of them or Darth Vader flicking them off. I also once witnessed a heated argument between them and the local red devil man with a cowboy hat, it made a slow night entertaining to say the least.
This is now my life, it has visible angels and devils, cat looking people and lots of mad hatters who are sober and yet can still make you wonder what the heck they are on. You can only desensitize yourself so much, so as much as I am used to all of this, it is still weird, and always will be.
I am Alice, but I know of a few other Alice's as well. We all fell down the rabbit hole looking for a different chance within the world, and we found a dreamlike place full of weirdos. This is where we belong, we choose to live with courage and adventure. Though my life has sense stabilized and the threat is basically non existent anymore, I still work on Bourbon. Living just 20 minutes from the rabbit hole now, I set myself free here every weekend to the me I think I always wanted to be. I am brave, confident, full of attitude, and unique, and so is any Alice on Bourbon Street. We make the rabbit hole the story it is, don't we?
This is the start of the stories of Alice, those who work the rabbit hole of Bourbon Street. If you ever find yourself walking our street, welcome to our dream.
Keep your eyes open as well, you may know an Alice yourself...