New Orleans is a magical city, and Mardi Gras is the most magical time of all. What a perfect time and place to complete this task!

I built a pushcart using a small collapsible grocery cart as the base, then constructed a frame of 1/2" PVC pipe around it to make a shelf and a canopy. This was ideal, since it broke down into fairly small parts, making it transportable by car for the 2,000 miles from Chicago to New Orleans and back again. It also offered good storage space for my merchandise backstock and personal effects. I used a piece of cardboard for a display shelf, covered the structure with yards and yards of beautiful fabrics, and added some tinkling bells and a candle lantern for pretties.

Xybreus and I rolled the cart down to the French Quarter on Mardi Gras afternoon. The streets and sidewalks of New Orleans are very, very uneven - surfaces we traversed included cobblestone, gravel, concrete sidewalks shifted out of true by the ever-changing waterlogged surface of the land, broken asphalt, and sandy dirt. The cart performed well, all things considered - we had to stop fairly frequently to pop pipes back into connectors, but we came up with some simple solutions should we decide to use it again in the future.

We set up in Jackson Square around 2:30, in the midst of random second-line parades, evangelistic Christian groups, and general Mardi Gras revelry. Xybreus had the very important job of taking all the photographs so I could focus on doing the "selling" - it would have been extremely difficult to have completed this task alone and still have had good photographic evidence. I beckoned and lured and cajoled, trying to get people to make purchases - I wanted to have a bit of a slightly sinister, con-artisty persona while still attracting people, as I thought befit my character. Some people were frightened, some were annoyed, some ignored me. Some people were intrigued, some stopped to browse but didn't buy, and some were brave enough to barter with a Goblin merchant.

First customer - an older man dressed as a Zulu warrior (Mardi Gras-style Zulu is not the same as real African Zulu, by the way). He stopped to take a picture of me, browsed the merchandise, and chose a small fairy cage. As payment, I requested he give me a piece of his childhood. He told me about the first time he heard the Beatles' song "Penny Lane" as a child and how it had stayed with him all his life. He then sang a bit of it for me, reminiscing.

Second customer - a man in a broad-brimmed hat trimmed in purple fake fur, with pretty celestial designs painted on his face and a Buddhist-style tattoo in the center of his forehead. He asked about my cart, and I offered his choice of items in return for a summertime memory. He surprised me by smiling and saying, "I'll have to think about what memory I can afford to give up, since I won't be getting it back. Damn Unseelie!" I didn't expect anyone to have such knowledge of Faerie lore that they would understand what I was doing on that level - I was pretty impressed. He went away for a few minutes, then came back and told me a story about when he and his brother were 7 or 8. They had gone to the mall with $20 each to spend, and he had put out about $3 for candy. Then he decided to play a prank in the men's bathroom, where he locked all the stall doors from the inside and scooted out from underneath. The person he ended up pranking was his own father, and not only did he get in trouble, he had also lost his remaining $17 in the process. On the way out to the parking lot, he found $17 on the ground. This was the moment in his life he began to consider his belief in karma and the universe having a way of balancing things. He then chose a large shell, saying that he didn't think his story was good enough as payment for any of my lovely items.

Interlude - A member of one of the many Christian youth groups that floods New Orleans to try to save lost souls amid the debauchery stopped by and inquired about my purpose. He was interested, but said his group did not allow their members to acquire souvenirs. A group of four tourists paused and considered a purchase, but ultimately decided against it.

Third customer - a young man dressed in the basic Mardi Gras uniform of jeans, a normal shirt, and lots of beads. I offered his choice of items in return for a secret. He thought a while, then leaned over and solemnly whispered, "I can never confess to my parents how many psychedelics I did in college". I got the impression that this burdened him for some reason. He was concerned that his secret wasn't payment enough for my merchandise, but I insisted that a secret was a secret, and it was indeed adequate. He chose a small blue ceramic jar with a cork, filled with blue glass "wishing stones".

Interlude - Having been at this location for three hours, we pack up and roll the cart over to Lower Decatur, which is where "my" crowd hangs out, to try our luck there for a while. It is also near where we plan to eat dinner, and our bellies are beginning to complain.

Fourth and fifth customers - two sisters, about 7 or 8, accompanied by their mother. I offered their choice of items in return for a performance of their favorite songs. The first little girl completely floored me by singing Britney Spears' "Womanizer". She chose a purple velvet box with a beaded tassel. Her sister gave me a sweet rendition of "Hush, Little Baby", and picked out a red velvet heart-shaped box with a silver filigree lid. I asked if they would promise to keep their secrets in these boxes, and they did.

Sixth customer - a little girl, about 6, with both her parents. I gave her the same deal as the previous little girls. She sang "Old MacDonald" for me, with pigs and horses. She chose a deep blue Indian silk box with a colorful beaded lid. I extracted the previous promise from her as well. As they were walking away, her father leaned in and said, "Is it really free?" I smiled and said, "Yes, as much as anything is."