The last thing I did on Friday, besides walking back to the hotel, was to revisit Fretzel’s European Jazz Club and try to listen to some more jazz. I was seated, but Max, whom I had never met before and soon left, waved me to a better seat beside him. I was given a menu and was required to buy a drink, a beer, which I sipped as I had enough drinks for the night. The music was familiar; one tune was from a Disney film and was a favorite: Down in New Orleans.
The Fritz All-Stars Band was good, and the crowd was noisy. Max left, and the very young folks with lots to drink were yelling to talk to each other. I can still only hear on my right side, and they were on my right side. I suspect they were not as annoying as I thought.
More drinks for the young people, and one tries to spit her cherry stem into my drink. Ick lands on my hand instead. I cover my $10 beer, German, and quite good, so not to be a target. The gal who did that now lays her head on the person beside her.
Soon, the same gal is throwing up, and the drinks go everywhere. I try to ignore this, and the band plays on–like on a famous ocean liner. Soon, I could see the manager telling them to get the drunk girl out of there, and I noticed she was very drunk or very sick or both. The crowd makes way, and soon, with the band playing, the EMT arrives. I am in the way, leave my beer, and walk out, hoping it is just a drunk young girl and not a reaction to what was in the drinks.
I walked back, only going the wrong way once, through loud and drunken Bourbon Street. The crowd was full of Krewe members who were in the parade, and lots of young people dressed in tight outfits were holding, drinking, and running to the next club. This is the weekend crowd.
I return to my hotel, walking seven or so more blocks, and Tyler, the night manager, is at the desk. He arranges a late check-out ($75) for me on Sunday. My flight is at 6 p.m., and I won’t get home until nearly midnight on Sunday.
Before this, I was at the Apothecary having an absinthe-based drink. Another vampire, this one with vangs, is making drinks, and I learn that the vampire bartender is the roommate of my tarot reader. NOLA vampires are a small community. I have the Corpse Revigorator #2, a not-sweet drink, and I like it.
Moving backward, I said good night to Linda (my sister) and her husband Jesse as we returned from dinner at Pierre Maspero’s. They went back to the hotel. Dinner was great. I ordered everything plater again. It was excellent. The food was put together differently than at Coop’s Place, so they are both excellent. Linda had the muffuletta sandwich, a local grinder sandwich with olive salad and pressed, and Jesse had the small platter. I had a mixed drink, which was sweet but named for the voodoo queen. Had to have that after visiting her earlier that day!
Moving back to almost the start of the day, it was wet, and thunder was still heard often. I walked to Toast (I called it French Toast before, but I think it is just “Toast”) and tried the ratatouille on toast with a fried egg. It was not presented well, but it was still good. I sat at the counter and listened to the folks. The waiters were excited as one of them had an invitation to dance in a Madri Gras parade. The breakfast crowd was younger and less hangover than the older folks from earlier this week. It is Friday, and it looks like the crowd has changed.
I finished my repast, and Jesse and Linda found me and joined me at the counter (all the tables and booths were filled). I stayed for a while and then headed out to let them eat. It was damp. I decided the Hop On Hop Off bus was fit for the weather. I could also just look at New Orleans from the dry, or mostly dry, bus. It was $40 plus tax–not a cheap alternative, but still accessible. I texted Linda where I was headed; they were buying stuff and soon would be trying a beignet.
While waiting for the bus, I walked through a fudge shop, found a little mall of shops, and found the public restroom in good repair and clean. I was soon ready for the next adventure. NOLA has the same problem as NYC, with few, if any, public bathrooms in well-traveled areas.
I stayed in the dry part of the bus. The tour leader was on the roof in the wet, and with the wind off the river, the speed of the bus, and the limited cover, it was more a water ride than a bus trip, from what I heard. The tour leader was excellent and explained the history and essential points of interest as we traveled. Much better than I expected. It was warm, too.
I disembarked at stop five and headed to St. Louis Cemetery #1. I had to pay for a tour, $25 plus tax, as all visitors must be escorted to prevent any damage or inappropriate actions in the still-in-use cemetery. A scene filmed in 1968 for Easy Rider had drunken and high people running around and mistreating the place, the oldest in New Orleans of its type. That ended, I was told, open access. This is the classic New Orleans-raised graves city of the dead. It was fascinating and recommended.
I won’t repeat the details here as they are available on a simple Google search, but I did take pictures of Marie Laveau’s grave. She was a famous and powerful voodoo priestess–yes, more voodoo! She was buried as a faithful, practicing Catholic. Nobody saw this as a contradiction in the 1800s. There is a tradition of chalking three Xs on the grave, knocking, and twirling (all three times) to contact her and ask for a boon. I resisted, and touching the grave is forbidden. Our docent also showed us the wrong grave that, for years, was used in error. It has Xs all over it.
The correct grave.
Next, I reboarded the bus and took a tour of the business center and then into the Garden District. No longer in the French Quarter, the houses were nicer on larger lots, and the area was less crowded. Houses sell here in the millions.
I got off at stop 11, while 12 was recommended. I walked three blocks to a place that looked like it served excellent Southern food. “Sorry, we are closed” was not the response I expected. But I was directed to their other place and warned it was a walk. I headed back the way I came, no surprise there, and soon was in the Irish Channel, I think, and found a huge line to a tiny place after walking ten blocks, Turkey and the Wolf. Apparently, it’s a famous place and known to foodie who filled the line. It took nearly an hour to get my food: an excellent ham sandwich, a side of cabbage salad, and fries. All was good, and I ordered extra.
Linda and Jesse were following me now on the bus and soon appeared. The line was gone, and the service was back to normal. The crew looked shell-shocked from the crowd and then the sudden quiet. Also, a car parked near the joint was smashed by a hit-and-run driver while they were buried. This upset the crew and explained the long waits as they had to deal with that too.
I shared my lunch with Linda and Jesse. They thought it, as I did, fantastic. Yes, the foodies were right to search and find this place stashed in a neighborhood in New Orleans. I was there just by luck. I bought the signed copy of the cookbook.
We took the bus back- only five blocks away- instead of my suggestion to walk, which was likely a bad idea, yet another ten blocks to the St. Charles Streetcars. Our bus tour guide, we were riding on the top now that the rain had stopped, was a native and a Krewe member and told us about throwing beads and why the trees and power lines and cables have beads on them. Apparently, the folks on the floats get lots to drink while riding and throwing stuff, and their aim is soon less than perfect. She told us that the trees on the main routes would soon be covered in beads and other throws. It was fascinating. We rode the last bus to near our hotel, which we did not know was the last one (they stopped running around 5ish).
We rested at Le Richelieu until about 7:15 as the Mardi Gras parade tonight started in Marigny at 7. We found the crowds at Royal Street, and the parade arrived at about 7:45, going very slowly. This was the smaller local parade dedicated to the Green Fairy, absinthe. The small floats were about drinking the green liquor and the side effects of the same. Linda managed to snag a few small throws. I was happy to enjoy the parade. I did feel underdressed in my hat and sweater. Most folks were in shiny apparel, often with very little coverage.
We walked through the crowd and watched the parade in reverse. Only once did it become a press.
And that takes me to the start. We found the food place, nearly empty, as the parade was yet to reach the area, and got a table and ordered.
Thanks for reading.
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