I had a busy day of grading and errand-ing, so when 6:00 rolled around, I was happy to toss off the day and get on the Surly to head down to the Quarter for preview night of Grey Gardens at Le Petit Theatre. (I usher as a volunteer in exchange for a free seat–best game in town, folks.) It’s that time of year, though, when there’s always something going on. I stopped to call a friend for directions (please pitch in and get me an iTelephone please) and noticed this massive crawfish boil at Fulton Square. This one is put on by Harrah’s and Budweiser–not exactly the friendly neighborhood crawfish boil I’m used to. Folks seemed to be enjoying themselves, but I had to head over to the show. As I was unlocking my bike, another cyclist join me to unlock hers from the other side of the street sign pole we were using as a bike rack. Nope, no bike racks at Jackson Square. Sigh. She told me about locking her bike up outside the Royal Sonesta hotel only to have management cut the cable and take her bike to their basement. Seriously? I’ve locked up to the sign she was talking about; I guess I just got lucky. Listen, folks, we need secure bike parking. After ten minutes of sharing our frustrations with bad roads, bad drivers, and bad weather, I hopped back on the bike and headed Uptown. The air smells like oil. It smells like oil. I can’t capture that in a picture, but please know that it smells like oil here. Don’t forget.