In part one of this exciting two-part post, co-explorer Kara and I opted not to go into the green crackhouse. Instead, we went into this motel, where I'd glimpsed people inside when driving by the previous afternoon. Makes perfect sense, right?
Don't worry; we didn't stay long. It looked like a refurbishment attempt had been aborted.
It also looked like someone or multiple someones spent enough time there to generate bags of garbage.
We'd attracted a lot of attention on this quest, biking while accompanied by a trotting chocolate Labrador on a leash. On one residential block we led our own slow Pied Piper parade of kids down the street, and each kid had about 100 questions about Miss Lola Mae.
"Why didn't you cut her tail off?"
"Because she isn't the kind of dog whose tail you cut off."
After departing the motel (as a neighbor asked us if we were going to buy the place) we made another pal who joined our procession. A little wiggle puppy!
He was so friendly and cute (this picture doesn't do him justice), and had no collar, so Kara considered taking him home.
Unfortunately, the scamp was extremely prone to getting aroused at the slightest provocation, like while being petted, and so he remained where we found him, north of Florida Boulevard.
What a prevert.
We approached from behind a former drive-thru bank building.
The main building facing Florida was still in use.
Photos aren't great due to losing light that day, but hopefully you can see that what probably began as a decorative plant has grown wild and is well on its way to completely filling up the foyer. I think this is a prime opportunity to direct your attention to a new category I added to the blog, "plants taking over." I added this because the PLANTS ARE RECLAIMING THIS WEIRD-ASS CITY.
Last stop, a building that's now one of my favorites in Baton Rouge, a former prosthetics and orthotics building.
Know how I know that? (Besides the sign?)
Orthopedic shoes and a Rascal in a darkened waiting room for nobody. Not pictured, though they've got to be in there somewhere: prosthetic limbs.
Despite the potential high creep factor, I really wish I had an office in this building, if only to enter through that glorious entryway each morning, coffee in hand (I've thought about this every day since).