Voulez-vous partay avec moi?

They are still laissezing les bon temps rouler in New Orleans. The streets of the French Quarter are full of tourists carrying neon-colored cocktails, and the wedding guests I saw coming out of the cathedral were wearing masks and feather boas and the groom was clearly not on his first beer.

There's a band on every block, and you never have to go very long without finding an impromptu parade to "When the Saints Come Marchin' In."

But cross Canal Street and the streets quickly empty out and I sometimes felt as though I'd wandered into one of those apocalyptic movies where the hero is the last remaining inhabitant of the city. Or the planet. Creepy. And more than a little sad.