Good guy During my first trip to New Orleans, I visited a tarot reader named Avery. While the other mystics looked and seemed more legit (i.e., full gothic attire, prominently displayed crystal balls), Avery, who was wearing regular street clothes and casually thumbing through a book, was the cheapest psychic on the block, offering my friend and me a two-for-one special when we walked by. Obviously, we were sold.
