There is always magic everywhere in New Orleans. I tell my tours how lucky, privileged, honored I feel to get to live in this special place, surrounded by the fractals of ironwork, lush greenery and happy people. I repeated this gushing refrain near the Pontalba building on my first night tour that almost canceled because it gushed like five inches of rain while they were arriving from the airport. Thankfully, the streets were sparkling and the mood was enchanting as we wandered around the French Quarter.

I was explaining the adrinka symbols in the ironwork on the Pontalba building in the milky midnight. A lady leaned over the balcony we were straining to see in the low light as I failed to point out even the monogram, “Hi!”

“Oh hi!!!” I did notice someone was up there, but I didn’t bother them.

“Y’all want to come up?? No one ever looks up here!”

With that, my new friend Heidi whisked us up to her amazing view over Jackson Square. The stairs are covered in 170ish years of paint, layers and layers warping the shapes.

“Y’all don’t seem like serial killers,” she quipped as we ambled up. And…neither did she.

She toured us around the one bedroom sublet and we spilled out onto the balcony.

I was able to touch the iron symbol I struggled to point out.

Side note: I assume the tour guides are simply not pointing straight at Heidi’s balcony when admiring the ironwork, not neglecting to point to it entirely.

We giggled about the mayor’s exploits on those balconies, talked about where we’re from, scoffed at the nutty tales they hear tour guides telling, and then traipsed back into the night, greeting my new friend Heidi again when we passed back through.

A little bit of magic that some might say could only happen in New Orleans. I think it can only happen because humans are generally kind and social animals. New Orleans just embraces the risk a little easier than most places, with a few scars to show for it. And has ancient symbolism embedded in the iron balconies to show off.