A funny thing once happened to me in New Orleans. I was staying at the Downtowner Hotel on Bourbon Street right in the midst of the French Quarter. That, as some of you know, must compare to the society of Sodom and Gomorrah. One evening as I was returning to my hotel I stopped along the way to purchase a quart of milk. Milk in hand (in a plain brown bag), I resumed my stroll down the center of Bourbon Street, now crowded with a variety of staggering revelers. Just as I approached my hotel a…