Strange as it now seems
Of zombie voodoo gris gris
And the witch-queen of New Orleans
She lived in a magic possessed
By the devils skew
From a shack near the swamp lands
Made of mud be brick
Marie stirred her witches brew

Voodoo veau
She'll put a spell on you

(Lyrics from "The Witch Queen Of New Orleans" written by Lolly and Pat Vegas.  Copyright Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC)

The image in my mind's eye about New Orleans was largely shaped when I heard Redbone's classic song "The Witch Queen Of New Orleans".  To a kid living in the desert of West Texas, the song conjured up visions of Marie Laveau standing before a boiling cauldron in an alligator-infested swamp concocting  strange potions and devising arcane spells with which to ensorcell those onto whom her customers wished evil to befall.

Years later when I actually visited New Orleans, I found that the vision was entirely true!  There's something about the Big Easy that just gives me the creeps.  You can just feel the voodoo in the air as you approach the city limits on I-10.

Conversely, there are those who find the lure of Nawlins irresistible.  They love the swampy humidity of the air and the lure of a cajun beat.  Most come to New Orleans to party and have fun.  The aura of voodoo just adds mystery to the experience.

Then there are those that straight-up go to New Orleans looking for Marie Laveau.  Take 43-year-old Kevin Bolton of Mississippi.  Mr. Bolton was arrested yesterday after he ran his SUV into a fence at the Slidell Municipal Airport outside NOLA.  When police arrived on the scene they found him clad only in his underwear and muttering something about being chased by the police.

Police affirm that Mr. Bolton was indeed not being chased by police and that he appeared to be under the influence of one or several mind-altering chemicals.  When asked where he was going when he had his mishap, Mr. Bolton said that he was on his way to see a voodoo doctor because snakes were climbing up his legs.

Now, normally I would say that Mr. Bolton is in need of medical attention because he's obviously delusional.  But he was found near New Orleans, on his way to see a voodoo doctor.  And now I'm hearing distant drum beats and smelling noxious vapors and seeing strangely flickering lights emanating from a dank swamp.  So, I'm wondering, "Who is mad at Kevin Bolton?"