|Copyright DC Comics, and probably the estate of Bob Kane.|
The whole point of the artful getaway is being left alone until the excitement dies down. Of course, any panic caused has always been unintentional. I am just a man going about his business, much of the time. If I am ever on assignment, it is a covert operation, and I pass unsuspecting pedestrians incognito, as I bivouac between Uptown and Downtown.
Should I have to launch a dirigible in the shape of a whale, I should find a suitable launching and landing pad. I could inflate the whole apparatus with a couple of hand pumps, helped by the neighborhood schoolchildren, on North Johnson Street, but air patrol requires only one pilot. He should be able to take flight by himself. What if civics class is in session?
I've been scouting some sites in New Orleans East, and also a couple of empty lots in Chalmette. I am negotiating with Tulane University to contract air rights over the university's natural history museum. The staff is afraid that a flying whale may excite their specimens, and disrupt their experiments. Since the museum's grounds are not open to the public, I think this abandoned WWII munitions station would be a good place to stow my gear. The sight of a flying whale excites more than fish. Evil-doers cower in a whale's shadow.