While I walk here, I can feel a small caress on my shoulder or a polite poke on the street. It seems the spirits of NOLA remember me and welcome me. I can almost hear the “good morning/evening” from the streets as I walk them this morning alone. I am not alone in my thoughts. It must be why I like it here. Even the spirits smile. Or it is the booze, but I think not.
The morning started with me up early-ish to write the blog and start my day. Today I have only Preservation Hall at 5 for the three of us. Jesse is looking a bit worn after five or more bars and as many places to eat (some overlapping) yesterday. Sadly, Jesse will be taken by the food demon, and Linda will stay with him, missing a good show at Preservation Hall. This is back to the original location, now updated with an expensive bar, but the best Sazerac I have had so far. The day ends with Linda ordering two pizzas (buy-1-get-1-free) and a salad. Though a person ordering from Michigan a salad after their salad crisis was a surprise to me. I took a break from endless booze and music too and read my new book on my Kindle app until I heard that Jesse was improving and then went to bed and slept well.
We started with breakfast at Toast of Decatur Street. I had the ratulli omelet, sticking to some cooked veggies and protein, except for the grits. Linda and Jesse split three breakfasts between them. They wanted to try about everything, but did pass on the King Cake stuffed French-style toast with Madi Grasse sprinkles. I saw one delivered. It looks as described, wow!
This lots of breakfast in us (unfortunately for Jesse, as it would return unbidden soon), we walked lots of blocks to the other side of the Quarter to the Vampire Café, and there Linda had a blood bag (juice), and Jesse a soda (he was already pale), and I a wicked O+ (my blood type, A+, is a too-sweet drink; A+ is sweet): Mezcal Tequila margarita with jalapeno. Smoky and burning. We were bitten (given a sticker of bite marks to put on your neck, and given a pass to Potions above Fritzel’s, but we would not make it).
Jesse and I went to the other Vampire place, The Vampire Apothecary, and I had some food, as I was left a bit uneven after crossing blood types. Linda stayed at a pleasant Voodoo place and had her cards read. Linda stayed with me for a short walk in the Quarter; Jesse headed back, and Linda headed back and invested the afternoon in caring for Jesse, who later claimed he was possessed by a lower demon, very low, and was ill until the late evening. He mostly recovered on Tuesday, and they took their plane that morning.
With a few hours free until the show, Fritzel’s European Jazz Club was wonderfully AC’d, and the music was good. I was almost alone on my side, as Monday afternoons are not big days here in the Big Easy. I talked to some young men who were enjoying the show and shared my bench. The band playing was confused as it added various folks to the lineup and seemed to be switching music at the last minute. One comment: “We are working out the keys, so we will suck less.” It was excellent, and the tryouts were good. To me, it was fun to be part of the workings of New Orleans bands, even as just an audience member. I could see they started out slow and careful, then let the music find its groove and rip. Excellent.
Preservation Hall opened, and I switched to their bar and had more food: ham and pimento cheese with toasted bread. That was perfect with the almost sweet Sazerac–again, the best so far on the trip. I found my seat; being almost the last person in the front row, I got the bench on the side, but the band plays into the crowd, and the trombone reached in front of me. A bit close. I liked the bench. I told the staff I had two unused seats in front and asked them to give them away. Two people from the UK, one of whom did not have a seat, got Jesse’s seat, and his wife got the upgrade to Linda’s seat, a perfect ending.
(From earlier in Fritzel’s)
The music was loud and fun, and I did not know any of it. I have nodded off in a more technical concert a few years ago. The singing was fun, and it was all fast-moving or lovely.
And with that, I have made a full circle of the day. I have left out meeting some folks at the hotel, and the tiny Chevy sounding like a huge truck (why?), and police raiding the building across the street from the hotel, but all of this is the spice of New Orleans, and like the gumbo, you have to taste it to get it.
Thanks for reading.
