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Super Sunday you get to see indians. Not the bang bang shot em up kind you grew up with but an amazing tradition dating back way further than I have time to truly explain properly. For more info click here.

We get up around 10am, slide out of bed and start our day like normal. The morning glides by and its noon before we know it. We mount the metal 2 wheeled steeds (bikes) and take off towards A.L. Davis Park. We stroll through the French quarter green beer, green hats and beads adorn the people in the quarter. Its almost St Patricks day so people are getting ready.

The Indians are supposed to start showing up at 1ish. On schedule they arrive in force. The sound of the drums beating, the chanting starts. It’s tricky this year, More and More people know about it and everyone is a photographer now.

I’m out there too so I guess I’m just as bad, its just with my choice in camera and lens I have to get way more personal and close to get a good shot. Its this intimacy that I’ve begun to love. A shared moment, between me and the person on the other side. I usually take the photo when we make eye contact.

Capturing the feel of this event is hard, You can’t shoot photos of the music. The feel of the drums, and the chanting of the indians its mesmerizing.

I’m sporting a fresh ish mohawk and I think it gets me some recognition and respect from the people who have seen my photos before. Kids like it anyway.

I do everything wrong, I shoot in the sun, stand in the sun and get burnt all day. I forget to get money on the way and have to borrow a 20 from Oliver Manhattan. Its nice to have friends. A cold beer tastes mighty good when the sun is this relentless.

It’s a great day, we have some sausage sandwiches and jump back on the bikes after the second line is done. We need rest, and we deserve it. Besides its a work day tomorrow and we are semi responsible adults.

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