At least until my next visit.
You might find this hard to believe, but I found several instances of Wood Injuns on my visit to the Big Easy.
Seems no matter where I go, people want to put me in feathers.
Can't call these cigar store Indians, because they ain't. These are two tourist-trap gift shops and a bar. New Orleans, shame on you for these blatant acts of Native Kitsch.
When I go back, I'm going to flash my Tribal ID and demand royalties.