THE SAINT NEW ORLEANS

There was time when I was on a streak with the Saint. Every time I went there (OK, like three or four times, but in a row), someone took their clothes off in the photo booth. The streak ended a while back, but each time I visit the Saint, I still kind of hope for a show. In its absence, I turn to the bar, another kind of show. Tuesdays are Tikioki, a perfect concoction of tiki-fueled karaoke performances. Thursday “After Dark, My Sweet” movie nights feature crime and noir films, free popcorn, and $2 Tecates. Weekend night soundtracks come from DJs, and Sundays get turned over to the crowd via Free Jukebox night. The jukebox at the Saint is a delight. Lee Dorsey shares a page with the Dead Milkmen, the New York Dolls, and Jacques Dutronc.

The Saint is pretty tiny for all its wonder, and though there is a patio out back, I’ve never taken my drink there. I like to hunker down at the bar, watch whoever and whatever comes out of the photo booth, visit with the bartender and whomever I find at the adjacent barstool. For a while, Sean Yseult, founder of White Zombie, owned and ran the bar, and it carries with it that punk/metal feel. The crowd here can definitely skew a little dark and goth, and most are pretty inked-up, though if you come in wearing a pink sundress, as I have, no one cares.

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