May Day
This was one of those rare afternoons.
I left work at three into a mid-May day in New Orleans that actually had not only a breeze but a cool wind. It’s hard to explain how unusual this is to those unaccustomed to the climate of this city. My next two days were scheduled off and I had a few hours to spend in the French Quarter before having to go grocery shopping, thanks to my good friend Anne. My natural instinct was to go straight to the Crescent City Brewhouse for some fresh draught and to absorb the city’s ambiance. It was great to see Vernel the oyster shucker working there once again. I hadn’t seen him since the storm and it was great not only to see him but to exchange Katrina stories which have become a way of reconnecting for everybody in the city. Everyone has a story. They all need to be recorded. They are all serious and pertinent and almost unbelievable. We New Orleanians have gotten to the point now to where we can look back at this experience and begin to talk about it without so much sadness and start to even laugh about it. I usually don’t tell businesspeople what I do for a living, but the manager noticed me there and he comped my beers. I have been sending them many thousands of dollars worth of business over the years. It’s nice to be appreciated. I’ve even begun to enjoy not being able to smoke in restaurants, which has now become law in Louisiana. I like the opportunity to get up from the table to have a smoke and see what’s happening on the street. There’s always an easy conversation to be had with a visitor, a chance to witness the interesting passers by and the mule drawn carriages going by with the guides telling stories about the town to their passengers. I watch it all go by with pride.
On my way up Decatur to Canal to catch the bus with my beer to-go and a swagger in my step, I passed Café Giovanni, which has audio speakers positioned outside to attract patrons, and I had to stop because Peter Gabriel’s “In Your Eyes” was playing on the street. I hope I didn’t look as foolish as I may have sounded singing along. I didn’t care. Thank goodness for the oldest and longest lasting liquid concoction known to the world. It can be a spirit that heightens the spirit.
The streetcar ride up Canal was just as invigorating. All of the windows were open with cool wind keeping everyone comfortable. There were two old women behind me. One of them was having a conversation on a cell phone that lasted longer than I would have talked to God if I had the chance to have Him answer all the questions I ever had about life. Even the cars going past on Canal Street added a rhythmic hum to the entire experience. The streetcar was driven by this particular driver who brings his sense of humor to work with him in a sharp, sarcastic, biting way. He says things to people like, “You know you’re supposed to exit through the back!" And he won’t take any crap from any kids. He tells them how to behave as importantly as if they were his own, yet as humorously as what should be happening on modern day sit-coms.
I should have gone to the bathroom before I left the Brewhouse because I really needed to pee once I got off at North Jefferson Davis to walk the half mile to my apartment on Bayou St. John. I knew I wasn’t going to make it. I did find a discreet out of the way Crepe Myrtle tree along side of the now defunct Mercy Hospital that I could get away with relieving myself in public without getting arrested. Having finished, I wasn’t ten steps away when this old woman passed by giving me a disconcerted look. I acted as if I was picking blackberries.
I got to the house just as Anne was ready to pick me up to go to the grocery store. I may be crazy, but I love grocery shopping. What a wonderland of foods. I was in the produce section picking out two big cantaloupes. Aretha Franklin’s “You Make Me Feel Like a Natural Woman” was on the air and I was quietly singing along. This Mexican couple nearby was looking at me like I was the alien.
So are the wonders of a great New Orleans afternoon. It may seem simple and irrelevant, but to me, these are the things that make my spirit soar.
This was one of those rare afternoons.
I left work at three into a mid-May day in New Orleans that actually had not only a breeze but a cool wind. It’s hard to explain how unusual this is to those unaccustomed to the climate of this city. My next two days were scheduled off and I had a few hours to spend in the French Quarter before having to go grocery shopping, thanks to my good friend Anne. My natural instinct was to go straight to the Crescent City Brewhouse for some fresh draught and to absorb the city’s ambiance. It was great to see Vernel the oyster shucker working there once again. I hadn’t seen him since the storm and it was great not only to see him but to exchange Katrina stories which have become a way of reconnecting for everybody in the city. Everyone has a story. They all need to be recorded. They are all serious and pertinent and almost unbelievable. We New Orleanians have gotten to the point now to where we can look back at this experience and begin to talk about it without so much sadness and start to even laugh about it. I usually don’t tell businesspeople what I do for a living, but the manager noticed me there and he comped my beers. I have been sending them many thousands of dollars worth of business over the years. It’s nice to be appreciated. I’ve even begun to enjoy not being able to smoke in restaurants, which has now become law in Louisiana. I like the opportunity to get up from the table to have a smoke and see what’s happening on the street. There’s always an easy conversation to be had with a visitor, a chance to witness the interesting passers by and the mule drawn carriages going by with the guides telling stories about the town to their passengers. I watch it all go by with pride.
On my way up Decatur to Canal to catch the bus with my beer to-go and a swagger in my step, I passed Café Giovanni, which has audio speakers positioned outside to attract patrons, and I had to stop because Peter Gabriel’s “In Your Eyes” was playing on the street. I hope I didn’t look as foolish as I may have sounded singing along. I didn’t care. Thank goodness for the oldest and longest lasting liquid concoction known to the world. It can be a spirit that heightens the spirit.
The streetcar ride up Canal was just as invigorating. All of the windows were open with cool wind keeping everyone comfortable. There were two old women behind me. One of them was having a conversation on a cell phone that lasted longer than I would have talked to God if I had the chance to have Him answer all the questions I ever had about life. Even the cars going past on Canal Street added a rhythmic hum to the entire experience. The streetcar was driven by this particular driver who brings his sense of humor to work with him in a sharp, sarcastic, biting way. He says things to people like, “You know you’re supposed to exit through the back!" And he won’t take any crap from any kids. He tells them how to behave as importantly as if they were his own, yet as humorously as what should be happening on modern day sit-coms.
I should have gone to the bathroom before I left the Brewhouse because I really needed to pee once I got off at North Jefferson Davis to walk the half mile to my apartment on Bayou St. John. I knew I wasn’t going to make it. I did find a discreet out of the way Crepe Myrtle tree along side of the now defunct Mercy Hospital that I could get away with relieving myself in public without getting arrested. Having finished, I wasn’t ten steps away when this old woman passed by giving me a disconcerted look. I acted as if I was picking blackberries.
I got to the house just as Anne was ready to pick me up to go to the grocery store. I may be crazy, but I love grocery shopping. What a wonderland of foods. I was in the produce section picking out two big cantaloupes. Aretha Franklin’s “You Make Me Feel Like a Natural Woman” was on the air and I was quietly singing along. This Mexican couple nearby was looking at me like I was the alien.
So are the wonders of a great New Orleans afternoon. It may seem simple and irrelevant, but to me, these are the things that make my spirit soar.
