I was happy to start early and make industrial coffee in my room. The room cleaners left me no coffee except decaf, but I had put a spare one away and popped it in the machine this morning. I’m glad I had thought ahead, but I only had one. So, only partially fueled, I took on writing the blog. I also had to pack, shop, ship, and get to the airport. Deborah sent me an Energizer Bunny meme. My insanely expensive but extra-dimensional roller bag and suit holder somehow held all of the stuff, including the new acquisitions, but it was wise of me to ship most of the latest books! I was done with the blog before ten and packed!
I went outside and sat on the balcony one last time. One has to have a balcony in The Big Easy, and the Holiday Inn French Quarter-Chateau Lemoyne, a bit loud at night, provided an excellent street view. They also charged me $200 in valet parking, but Air Volvo was in the economy lot in Portland. I had no rental. This required a visit to the front desk, and after some effort, I was assured they would fix it. My bags went into storage, and I began walking to the shopping.
I found the General Store across from Cafe de Monde and sent out a smaller group of items, primarily to new folks. I sent out beignet mixes and other memories of New Orleans (NOLA) for friends I missed sending something to last trip. There were two birthdays to cover, too. The New Orleans Cooking School had its set of school kits sent to my house to share with locals in Oregon. I did this six months ago, and they were happy to help and remembered me. While this is an expense, it is not more than a few dinners and drinks at the vampire places!
(So many jokes for this picture)
I have never done brunch on NOLA, and the folks at the General Store thought The Court of the Two Sisters would not be busy on a Wednesday morning (before the Swifties arrive) and decided I should try it. Yesterday, I was there for a drink on my tour/pub crawl and thought returning was a good idea.
I touched the charming gate; the legend is that it makes you charming. I soon had a table and access to a vast buffet. My magic dress shirt and sweater vest with hat worked (or maybe it was touching the gate), and I was treated well and got lots of smiles and offers for help. The food was good but not great, like most buffets, but endless. Jazz music started with a banjo, clarinet, and bass. The jambalaya rice was chewy but still good. I skipped the egg bar and later saw that Eggs Benedict was offered, but I stayed to local items. The lemon cake for dessert with white chocolate shavings was heavenly and light. The staff laughed and smiled with me. All good.
The area was starting to get busy as noon approached. Time for me to go. Next, I stopped by the Dirty Coast store, closed or “back in five” every time I walked by. Open! They sell a shirt with a non-canonical version of the Last Supper hinting at De Vinci’s version, but with someone dumping a pile of cooked crawfish before the Lord but everyone looking happy and hungry. Definitely had to have one. I texted Dondrea, and she said she did not need one, but I checked. I talked to the folks there, and they try to deliver a quality product that is edgy and fun but no offense–in the usual ways, but still NOLA. They started with a sticker after Katrina, “Be a New Orleanian. wherever you are,” and built it into multiple edgy stores now. The guy at the store was a refugee from Katrina who had now returned and gave me one of their stickers. A treasure.
Jackson Square was nearby, so I sat on a bench for a while, texted, and chatted on my phone. Finally, the Glory Band started, and a man sat down and talked with me; he suggested he was homeless and searching for work. He claimed his necklace contained the ashes of his wife and tried to connect to me when he learned I was widowed. I did give him the $5 bill, but his sparkling white new Air Jordans suggested he was not what he said he was.
The band was excellent, and a woman singer was even present today. They started about 1 and were still playing when I headed back. It was time to exit the Big Easy. The Swifties were coming, and they were coming for three shows with 30,000 folks for each—all sold out. Already, there were notes for bright and young drinks and food. The “Someone has to suck it” T-shirts were replaced in the shops with white and pink colored NOLA positive words and images, and even Taylor Swift herself on some! The Big Easy was staggering into a new experience of bright colors with a bad hangover from the football games and the masses of drunken folks from Krewe of Boo. The locals are happy for the business but unsure what to do with so many Swifties, who are not their usual jazz party group.
My taxi to the airport is $40 with a tip, better than an Uber. My phone shows a 4AM boarding time, which I figure is me connecting to an old flight. I head to the kiosks to print my stuff and check my bag; nope. After a short wait, I talked to an agent, and all my connections failed due to late flights to my connecting flights to Portland. I am not getting home today. I do whine that I would have preferred to have known this before I left NOLA, but now I am here, and they have gotten me a $12 dinner coupon, taxi vouchers, and a hotel room.
The Clarion is happy to see me after I ride their bus to the hotel. Soon, I was in my room watching “Murder’s Only in the Building” with a remote friend. We start and stop it and have the phone open the whole time. I spend some time relaxing and then head to dinner. The nearby family-style Brick Oven Cafe is strongly recommended. The chicken parmigiana is excellent, with the breaded chicken crunchy and covered with sauce and then with baked cheese. The salad, their salad dressing, was perfect. A glass of wine matches the house Chianti well.
I manage a shower. A poorly maintained shower is not a welcome sight, but despite the low pressure and cold water starting, it works and is welcomely hot. Cleaned and finding things in various bags, I managed to get to bed and fell immediately into a dark Italian-style food sleep. I wake at 1AM with a start check that I did not miss my alarm. It is set to too-f**king-early time. I returned to sleep and woke up on time for the following day. Well, it’s more like the middle of the night.
Thanks for reading.
Alohawild (Michael Wild's) Website 