Here's the craziest thing I saw in the Big Easy one day:
I'm walking down Decatur Street around 8 AM on my way to get some breakfast. There's this black guy coming toward me with a big white towel pressed up against his head. Another black guy is right behind me. These two guys know each other, and when they pass, they stop and chat. I'm just a few feet away, and I stop to notice that the one guy with the towel is not in good shape. The towel is virtually soaked in blood and it's dripping on the sidewalk at a pretty good rate. However, he's just chatting away with his friend as if nothing is wrong.
This is why they call it, "The Big Easy." You just learn not to care about the little stuff. Like living.