As the street car persistently creaks, my mind does too. It follows the green rushing by that peaks through the wrought iron gates on my side of St. Charles. Sitting on the gallery with hot bricks on my back, I watch the street car pass. The passengers aboard with their cameras and large smiles look in from the other side. They see all of us in our plaid. They see our historic school. What they don’t see however is our laughter. We are laughing at them for the touristy things we know they’ll do. They come to the city to ride the “trolley.” They come here to drink hand grenades. They even come here to attend “the Mardi Gras.” Although we mock their naivety, we secretly thank them for coming. For it’s their presence (and money) that help keep this city going. They ride our “trolleys,” they drink our hand grenades, and they even catch our beads at Mardi Gras. Without them, the city would not be the same.
Sam, age 17
