The first tour I took out after Hurricane Ida hit was a memorable one, to say the least. At that point it had been three weeks since that windy motherfucker had come and gone and the French Quarter, like the rest of the city, was still reeling. Most of the power had returned by now, but there was still the odd streetlight, cornerstore, or even entire half-block that remained dark. And these powerless blemishes peppered the quarter, creating a sort of patchwork quilt of dark and light that gave off the impression of a night full of danger.    There was also the disturbing chest-high stack of storm debris and black…