I ain't going to lie, beloved, but I woke up in a foul mood. Whatever cheap funk that's been hanging around since the first of the year kicked me in the teeth this morning. There was all expectations of this being one of those dark, tedious dirges I've been singing lately because I'm not interested in today's news, so far. But, I got wired & inspired, and took a nice constitutional with Otis. It improved my mood greatly.
Showing posts with label Life In New Orleans. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Life In New Orleans. Show all posts
Sunday, February 9, 2020
Sunday, December 29, 2019
Sunday, December 29, 2019
Tuesday, May 14, 2013
And it was such a nice day.
I've been trying to process this all weekend. I still haven't wrapped my head around it, not really. I was driving to the Speedee place to get my oil changed, and realize I needed to be on Elysium rather than Esplanade, I cut through Treme, right through this neighborhood. It was really close.
You know, as this was going on - and after I'd already called her for the day - my mother texted me and asked if we were close to these shootings. It had already made the national news. I texted her back and lied, writing that, no, I was nowhere near where that was going on, when in fact, I was very close indeed.
I also didn't tell her about the guy who got mugged a month or so back on my Otis-walking route, nor did I tell her about the dude who was shot last year right down the street trying to break up a car jacking. I don't tell her that as often as not I hear gunshots, especially when I'm staying in the Bywater but also when I'm at my place in the Point. I really don't want her to worry.
This has apparently shocked New Orleans, which in and of itself is pretty goddamn shocking. This is a town that wears its inherent dangers almost as a badge of honor, and at the very least it's an accepted if regrettable part of life in the town. But this event has people angry and scared. Maybe something will come out of that. Maybe it will shake the town and the government out of its complacency and start doing something constructive. Maybe.
I remember not long ago discussing "beefs" with the lads, and how that the second line used to be one of the few places even someone with an active beef could go and they probably wound't be shot. The lads were saying how that's no longer the case, that you could get shot just as easily at a parade or a second line as you could outside the club. I guess not.
The NOPD say they have a suspect they're looking for and there's a picture and I'm sure he'll be caught soon. What were you thinking, kid, whatever convinced you this was a good idea. Could we please just stop with the guns and killing, just for a little while? This really doesn't even fall into the whole nation-wide debate we're having over how terrified some folks are that we might think their penises are tiny, it's more just a plea for a friggin' break, you gutless wonders. Stop shooting people.
Thankfully, most importantly, no one was killed.
You know, as this was going on - and after I'd already called her for the day - my mother texted me and asked if we were close to these shootings. It had already made the national news. I texted her back and lied, writing that, no, I was nowhere near where that was going on, when in fact, I was very close indeed.
I also didn't tell her about the guy who got mugged a month or so back on my Otis-walking route, nor did I tell her about the dude who was shot last year right down the street trying to break up a car jacking. I don't tell her that as often as not I hear gunshots, especially when I'm staying in the Bywater but also when I'm at my place in the Point. I really don't want her to worry.
This has apparently shocked New Orleans, which in and of itself is pretty goddamn shocking. This is a town that wears its inherent dangers almost as a badge of honor, and at the very least it's an accepted if regrettable part of life in the town. But this event has people angry and scared. Maybe something will come out of that. Maybe it will shake the town and the government out of its complacency and start doing something constructive. Maybe.
I remember not long ago discussing "beefs" with the lads, and how that the second line used to be one of the few places even someone with an active beef could go and they probably wound't be shot. The lads were saying how that's no longer the case, that you could get shot just as easily at a parade or a second line as you could outside the club. I guess not.
The NOPD say they have a suspect they're looking for and there's a picture and I'm sure he'll be caught soon. What were you thinking, kid, whatever convinced you this was a good idea. Could we please just stop with the guns and killing, just for a little while? This really doesn't even fall into the whole nation-wide debate we're having over how terrified some folks are that we might think their penises are tiny, it's more just a plea for a friggin' break, you gutless wonders. Stop shooting people.
Thankfully, most importantly, no one was killed.
Wednesday, September 19, 2012
Blame The Vain
Once again, nothing too interesting to say. I should feel ashamed at putting this drivel out into the ether, but honestly, I don't give a shit. No one has to read it.
Friday, September 7, 2012
A boy and his dog
I don't have anything particularly interesting thoughts buzzing around my head, so this isn't going to be particularly interesting. That's just how it is.
A lazy, muggy Friday morning is on us as the NFL season opens this weekend, and work is probably going to suck. Of course, work always sucks, but that's neither here nor there. Otis and I got up around 8:30 a.m. and had us a nice walk. As I wasn't particularly hungry, he and I had a very pleasant nap, one he's still engaging in.
He did very well on his own last night. He was pretty wound up and happy to see me, running to grab his rope so we could play. I left him in the kitchen, and he didn't tear anything up. I'll do that for a couple more days to let him get used to occasionally being alone, and then I'll let him have the rest of the place. I'll try to get him out to the vet next week for a check up.
Other thoughts:
A lazy, muggy Friday morning is on us as the NFL season opens this weekend, and work is probably going to suck. Of course, work always sucks, but that's neither here nor there. Otis and I got up around 8:30 a.m. and had us a nice walk. As I wasn't particularly hungry, he and I had a very pleasant nap, one he's still engaging in.
He did very well on his own last night. He was pretty wound up and happy to see me, running to grab his rope so we could play. I left him in the kitchen, and he didn't tear anything up. I'll do that for a couple more days to let him get used to occasionally being alone, and then I'll let him have the rest of the place. I'll try to get him out to the vet next week for a check up.
Other thoughts:
Wednesday, September 5, 2012
Time Warp #2 - Back To Normal, Things Always Change
For what it's worth, as I write this, Monday, Sept. 3, I am still without internet access. I called the cable people and they said they had no idea when my area would be getting access again. Honestly, apart from the fact that it's easier to look stuff up on my computer than on my phone when I really want to know something - and posting this gibberish, of course - I'm not sure I miss it all that much. Same for the cable. Oh, sure, it's nice having a little background noise without having to think to hard, but I suppose I could always turn on NPR. I do sort of miss the connection to the big political show, but I must admit the increased focus on local news has been illuminating.
Anyhow.
I have a dog. Best the cognoscenti can tell, he's around two years old and seems to be a wire-haired terrier. He's a lovable little dude, big into cuddling. He's a very tactile dog, I've noticed that. He seems to like sleeping on my foot, for example. He's very laid back and seems to be seriously into napping.
He's a friendly, personable dog, but at the same time, he's very independent and stand-offish. I'm of the opinion he's a gutter-punk kid's dog. He's got that sort easy-but-guarded bonhomie that let's those kids move through that world. They take life as they come and do the very least they have to. I'm saying that because I also don't think he's had a whole lot of one-to-one love and affection, though I don't think he's ever been abused.
Anyhow.
 |
| This is a dog that appreciates his naps, and I'm a man that appreciates that. |
I have a dog. Best the cognoscenti can tell, he's around two years old and seems to be a wire-haired terrier. He's a lovable little dude, big into cuddling. He's a very tactile dog, I've noticed that. He seems to like sleeping on my foot, for example. He's very laid back and seems to be seriously into napping.
He's a friendly, personable dog, but at the same time, he's very independent and stand-offish. I'm of the opinion he's a gutter-punk kid's dog. He's got that sort easy-but-guarded bonhomie that let's those kids move through that world. They take life as they come and do the very least they have to. I'm saying that because I also don't think he's had a whole lot of one-to-one love and affection, though I don't think he's ever been abused.
Tuesday, September 4, 2012
Time Warp # 1 - The Day After
 |
| Outside the Algiers Point Grocery. Landed right on that poor bastard's truck. |
Anyhow. Hurricane Isaac has blown through and, last I heard he's on up into Arkansas making them folks wet and miserable. All in all, it was not as bad as it could've been but worse than most of us expected. It never got higher than Cateogry 1, but even so it was a nasty booger before all was said and done. It had the distressing tendency to sit and stay in one spot, and managed to do so twice. Both times resulted in little areas around New Orleans getting the ever-loving shit kicked out of them.
Wednesday, August 29, 2012
Storm Update #3
Well, Isaac is dumping on us in earnest. Apparently, it's sitting still off the coast, so we're in for a whole lot more wind and rain. The girlfriend's pretty freaked, and is not enjoying the Katrina flashbacks. Me, I'm not all that wound up. Sure, there's still plenty of opportunity for things to get really shitty really quickly, and naturally since I've been smoking pot pretty much all day I'm liable to be a bit nonchalant over a little rain.
Still and all, it's been pretty awe-inspiring. I sat through a couple rowdy hurricanes when I lived in Gainesville, but those came and went much like tornadoes did when I was a kid. This is definitely a different kettle of fish flying wildly at high speeds. So far, I haven't seen much damage. Part of a neighbor's fence fell over and a couple limbs have fallen off the old pecan tree in the girlfriend's front yard. From what I can gather from the news folks, something like 300,000 people in the area are without power. As for right now, we've still got power, cable and internet, and best I can tell, I'd have power in the Point, too.
Frankly, I'm having a blast. Way everyone who knows better than me, girlfriend included, has said this is a pretty fierce storm even for a Category One, and all the folks who survived Katrina and are going through their first nasty storm since that one are freaking out. I don't blame 'em, no, but I simply cannot make the connection. At this point, we've done all there is to do, all that can be done to prepare, so we just might as well ride the bastard out.
And I suppose, that in itself is a little unsettling. We like to tell ourselves that we're the masters of this world, but, boy, is it not so. Stay safe.
Still and all, it's been pretty awe-inspiring. I sat through a couple rowdy hurricanes when I lived in Gainesville, but those came and went much like tornadoes did when I was a kid. This is definitely a different kettle of fish flying wildly at high speeds. So far, I haven't seen much damage. Part of a neighbor's fence fell over and a couple limbs have fallen off the old pecan tree in the girlfriend's front yard. From what I can gather from the news folks, something like 300,000 people in the area are without power. As for right now, we've still got power, cable and internet, and best I can tell, I'd have power in the Point, too.
Frankly, I'm having a blast. Way everyone who knows better than me, girlfriend included, has said this is a pretty fierce storm even for a Category One, and all the folks who survived Katrina and are going through their first nasty storm since that one are freaking out. I don't blame 'em, no, but I simply cannot make the connection. At this point, we've done all there is to do, all that can be done to prepare, so we just might as well ride the bastard out.
And I suppose, that in itself is a little unsettling. We like to tell ourselves that we're the masters of this world, but, boy, is it not so. Stay safe.
Tuesday, August 28, 2012
Storm Update #2
Well, it's noon and we officially are dealing with a Category 1 hurricane in young Isaac. We're still in the Bywater with plans to ride out the storm. It's rained off and on during the night, raining now as a matter of fact, and the wind's been gusting since yesterday evening. A short walk around the neighborhood an hour ago showed folks pensive and a little tense, but for the most part prepared for the ride and properly hunkered down. I even saw a few random acts of kindness, neighbors hollering across the street "Call if you need anything" or a dollar loaned for a gallon of milk, that sort of thing.
The girlfriend says that pre-Katrina there was a bit more festivity in the air in the tense hours leading up to landfall but that all changed when the levees broke. It's really never came back. People are polite, helpful and friendly - after all, this is our city - but this is all business. I doubt hurricanes will be any fun for New Orleans for a long, long time. That scar's a thick one.
The girlfriend says that pre-Katrina there was a bit more festivity in the air in the tense hours leading up to landfall but that all changed when the levees broke. It's really never came back. People are polite, helpful and friendly - after all, this is our city - but this is all business. I doubt hurricanes will be any fun for New Orleans for a long, long time. That scar's a thick one.
Storm update #1
Well, we're still here. The wind has picked up and the feeling outside is unsettling and charged. Isaac, which as far as I know is still a tropical storm, is supposed to hit landfall sometime early tomorrow afternoon. The bedraggled weather folk on the various local stations are saying it'll probably be a full-on hurricane by the time it hits, maybe a Cat. 2, and regardless it's going to dump a ton of rain on us and most likely knock out our power. They've repeated this mantra so much, I'm half convinced the storm's a cover-up for them to get at the grid for a couple days.
In any event, we're here and hunkered down for the ride. The lady and I are both uneasy about the choice, but given the situation, it's the best option we got right now. Things turn ugly, we will split quick as we can. Otherwise, I do have some thoughts I will explore later, but right now my cognitive drive is take up with how bad Cadillac Records is. And apparently it got good reviews and was lauded for its history. It is neither good nor historically accurate. Then again, my pulse is rarely on the zeitgeist.
In any event, we're here and hunkered down for the ride. The lady and I are both uneasy about the choice, but given the situation, it's the best option we got right now. Things turn ugly, we will split quick as we can. Otherwise, I do have some thoughts I will explore later, but right now my cognitive drive is take up with how bad Cadillac Records is. And apparently it got good reviews and was lauded for its history. It is neither good nor historically accurate. Then again, my pulse is rarely on the zeitgeist.
Sunday, August 26, 2012
Funny thing is, today's weather was gorgeous.
So there's a serious storm coming this way. Isaac, this one's called, and as of right now (9:34 p.m.), it's off the Florida Keys. As of right now, it's still a tropical storm but them that know say it could pick up juice in the warm Gulf of Mexico and become a hurricane. Meteorologists are saying that, sometime late Tuesday night/early Wednesday morning, it'll make landfall somewhere between Mobile and Lake Charles and it's been said it will be a Category 2 storm by the time it hits. There has already been a number of deaths in Haiti and some heavy duty weather in south Florida.
So far - and with all empathy to those who've already lost to this storm, but it doesn't seem like this thing is all that threatening, really, not compared to the serious shit Katrina or Gustav brought. Then again, around noon today, everyone's mood switched all at once, it seemed, and the lads started taking Isaac seriously. I'm sitting here watching the Weather Channel analyze every damn aspect of the thing to death, but I guess that's their job.
So far - and with all empathy to those who've already lost to this storm, but it doesn't seem like this thing is all that threatening, really, not compared to the serious shit Katrina or Gustav brought. Then again, around noon today, everyone's mood switched all at once, it seemed, and the lads started taking Isaac seriously. I'm sitting here watching the Weather Channel analyze every damn aspect of the thing to death, but I guess that's their job.
Friday, August 24, 2012
And is there any town that more lives the idea of "Don't Panic"?
As much as I fought getting one, I must admit I do severely dig my smart phone. It's a battered Samsung Mythic, and it's a little over two years old. I'm way past the point of updating, but I tend to keep hardware until it quits working all together.
Anyhow, one of the reasons I like my smart phone is because it fulfills a boyhood dream of having a hand-held, portable guide to Life, the Universe and Everything of my very own, and one that was updated in more or less real time. Just fire up the pitiful little browser, call up Wikipedia or Google, and I'm off. Should I wake up in an unfamiliar land, I've got Lost Planet and Wikitravels bookmarked. Finally, with Twitter and the AP, I've got a running, to-the-minute news-feed right in my pocket, which brings to mind the e-readers in Transmetropolitan. Hell, my phone's use as a communication device is almost tertiary.
Anyhow, one of the reasons I like my smart phone is because it fulfills a boyhood dream of having a hand-held, portable guide to Life, the Universe and Everything of my very own, and one that was updated in more or less real time. Just fire up the pitiful little browser, call up Wikipedia or Google, and I'm off. Should I wake up in an unfamiliar land, I've got Lost Planet and Wikitravels bookmarked. Finally, with Twitter and the AP, I've got a running, to-the-minute news-feed right in my pocket, which brings to mind the e-readers in Transmetropolitan. Hell, my phone's use as a communication device is almost tertiary.
Thursday, August 23, 2012
I'm almost positive we're not supposed to know about this.
This doesn't sound right at all, does it?
Seriously, stop everyone on bikes? In the Fifth District, which as far as I can tell, includes the Marigny, the Bywater, St. Claude and St. Roch, and that’s going to be a helluva lot of bikes. Good gravy.
Seriously, stop everyone on bikes? In the Fifth District, which as far as I can tell, includes the Marigny, the Bywater, St. Claude and St. Roch, and that’s going to be a helluva lot of bikes. Good gravy.
Monday, August 20, 2012
Don't let me hold you up, now.
Random gibberish at the end of the week. Well, the end of my week, that is, as most folks have the other way around. See, I work in the service industry, and the whole idea of "weekends and holidays off" is strange and foreign to me. These days, my work week ends on Monday and starts back up Thursday evening. That's just the way it is. As a general rule, my bosses know I like to have "pseudo-weekends", or two days in a row off rather than splitting them. I just cannot enjoy myself otherwise, and most folks are generally agreeable to the idea as am I should it be necessary to adjust when needs must.
Really, I haven't had weekends off since I started working as a teenager, and weekends always meant more work. When I did newspapers, I was generally working through the weekend, even if no one else on staff was. Funny how it always worked out like that. I didn't mind then, though, and I don't mind now, though it screws up my blog reading since everyone else in the world has normal weekends, it seems.
The French Quarter is full of Shriners. This is to be expected, as there is a convention going on this weekend. Naturally, this has been going through my head all day, as well as the spinning wheels that make up my fascination with Freemasons and people who wear funny hats on purpose. In any event, I saw a fairly large number of portly, middle-aged gentlemen in white suits. Some had on presumably ceremonial garb,such as very sharp capes and slightly ostentatious shoulder necklaces. As I understand, these folks are big on hierarchy and honoring each other with titles and bric-Ã -brac and much whuffie is earned. Many were wearing fezzes, while a significant number were carrying what looked like tiny, cone-shaped road cases for their hats. At least, best I can tell from observation. I figured someone grinning ear-to-ear on top of looking like I do even on my best day, it was probably not conducive for me to bother these good folk with such trivialities. I don't know why I find a city full of Shriners as amusing as I do, but there it is.
Boy, that Todd Akin sure stuck his foot in it, didn't he. I must say, I'm a bit surprised that the general run of the GOP came down like a hammer on the dumb son of a bitch, though I've no doubt he'll soon become a martyr to political correctness for the general run of wingnut. I don't understand how he thought something that goddamn stupid would fly, but perhaps he figured Ron Paul set the center on this particular debate.
I swear, I haven't laughed so hard in months. I saw on Twitter this morning that some member of the House got busted for skinny-dipping and getting soused in Israel and apparently this actually happened in this universe. That's funny enough, sure. Funnier, it was a Republican, but deep down, no one was surprised. Even funnier, it was the Sea of Galilee, and really? You're in Israel and you're a conservative Republican and you thinking skinny-dipping in Jesus's sea is not going to be all over the Internet in a couple of hours?
Turns out, this guy - Kevin Yoder, freshman Representative of the great state of Kansas - is a year younger than me. That just makes me sad. Now, I'm not claiming at having total wisdom and full coverage, but I do think that after 36 years of stomping the Terra I had enough sense to, when asked if I wanted to get liquored up, strip nekkid and try to walk on the same water Jesus was supposed to have walked on, I would have studied on it, considered my future in the Republican party and the ubiquity of camera phones. and replied with an respectful "No". But what do I know.
And so much for all that. I'll be at the girlfriend's place for the next two days. Perhaps that will be the end of that. I'd really rather bring my laptop, but I know if I tell her I'm trying this, it'll go all pear shaped for reasons too tedious to get into here. So, we'll see.
Really, I haven't had weekends off since I started working as a teenager, and weekends always meant more work. When I did newspapers, I was generally working through the weekend, even if no one else on staff was. Funny how it always worked out like that. I didn't mind then, though, and I don't mind now, though it screws up my blog reading since everyone else in the world has normal weekends, it seems.
The French Quarter is full of Shriners. This is to be expected, as there is a convention going on this weekend. Naturally, this has been going through my head all day, as well as the spinning wheels that make up my fascination with Freemasons and people who wear funny hats on purpose. In any event, I saw a fairly large number of portly, middle-aged gentlemen in white suits. Some had on presumably ceremonial garb,such as very sharp capes and slightly ostentatious shoulder necklaces. As I understand, these folks are big on hierarchy and honoring each other with titles and bric-Ã -brac and much whuffie is earned. Many were wearing fezzes, while a significant number were carrying what looked like tiny, cone-shaped road cases for their hats. At least, best I can tell from observation. I figured someone grinning ear-to-ear on top of looking like I do even on my best day, it was probably not conducive for me to bother these good folk with such trivialities. I don't know why I find a city full of Shriners as amusing as I do, but there it is.
Boy, that Todd Akin sure stuck his foot in it, didn't he. I must say, I'm a bit surprised that the general run of the GOP came down like a hammer on the dumb son of a bitch, though I've no doubt he'll soon become a martyr to political correctness for the general run of wingnut. I don't understand how he thought something that goddamn stupid would fly, but perhaps he figured Ron Paul set the center on this particular debate.
I swear, I haven't laughed so hard in months. I saw on Twitter this morning that some member of the House got busted for skinny-dipping and getting soused in Israel and apparently this actually happened in this universe. That's funny enough, sure. Funnier, it was a Republican, but deep down, no one was surprised. Even funnier, it was the Sea of Galilee, and really? You're in Israel and you're a conservative Republican and you thinking skinny-dipping in Jesus's sea is not going to be all over the Internet in a couple of hours?
Turns out, this guy - Kevin Yoder, freshman Representative of the great state of Kansas - is a year younger than me. That just makes me sad. Now, I'm not claiming at having total wisdom and full coverage, but I do think that after 36 years of stomping the Terra I had enough sense to, when asked if I wanted to get liquored up, strip nekkid and try to walk on the same water Jesus was supposed to have walked on, I would have studied on it, considered my future in the Republican party and the ubiquity of camera phones. and replied with an respectful "No". But what do I know.
And so much for all that. I'll be at the girlfriend's place for the next two days. Perhaps that will be the end of that. I'd really rather bring my laptop, but I know if I tell her I'm trying this, it'll go all pear shaped for reasons too tedious to get into here. So, we'll see.
Sunday, August 8, 2010
Tales from the kitchen
People never cease to amaze me, especially people who come to New Orleans. Right now, we're getting the tail-end of the family tourists and the first batch of before-school-starts tourists, so there's a pretty heady collection of classless waterheads wandering around unsupervised in the Quarter. They don't mean harm, I truly believe, but it seems like they've never been any place fancier than a Shoney's and the concept of "fine dining" blows their mind somewhat. That and they can be just plain rude, moreso than the most drunken Mardi Gras jackass or JazzFest ding-a-ling.
Take tonight, for example. Keep in mind, now, my restaurant serves your typical New Orleans/Creole-American board of fare and does the whole "casual fine dining", which means you can get a pretty good meal but aren't require to wear long pants. There's a New Orleans-style double doors that leads out to the courtyard, but it's rarely used by anyone but staff. However, About an hour-and-a-half before the end of the shift, right at the end of a fairly significant pop, some yayhoo walks right in through those doors and right into the kitchen and the following conversation occurs:
Guy: “Do you have foie gras?”
Me: “Do what?”
Guy: “Fois gras. Do you sell fois gras?”
Me: “Uh, no.”
Guy: “Well, it’s French.”
Me: “Okay.” [Beat as the guy just stares at me] “We don’t have it.”
Guy: “Do you know any restaurant that would have it?”
Me: “Hell, I don’t know, you might try Court of Two Sisters or Palace Cafe.”
Guy: “They don’t. Who else?”
Me: “I really don’t know. Sorry.”
The guy then turns and walks out the door, leaving said door open, without another word. Now, anyone who knows anything about me knows that, first and foremost, I'm an easy-going guy and more than willing to help out anyone in any way I can. However, there are three things anyone considering similar action as this dingbat should consider before just blowing through the door.
Number one, I’m a cook, not a restaurant guide. The apron should be a giveaway.
Number two, this is New Orleans, not Paris and “Creole” is not synonymous with “French”, cuisine-wise. It's not even close and serious epicureans would laugh, laugh if it were suggested to be so in their presence.
Number three, dude, don’t just walk into my kitchen, especially if you're going to bark orders and cop an attitude. That’s a good way of getting something that’s either sharp or recently exposed to flame thrown at you.
Damn tourists.
Take tonight, for example. Keep in mind, now, my restaurant serves your typical New Orleans/Creole-American board of fare and does the whole "casual fine dining", which means you can get a pretty good meal but aren't require to wear long pants. There's a New Orleans-style double doors that leads out to the courtyard, but it's rarely used by anyone but staff. However, About an hour-and-a-half before the end of the shift, right at the end of a fairly significant pop, some yayhoo walks right in through those doors and right into the kitchen and the following conversation occurs:
Guy: “Do you have foie gras?”
Me: “Do what?”
Guy: “Fois gras. Do you sell fois gras?”
Me: “Uh, no.”
Guy: “Well, it’s French.”
Me: “Okay.” [Beat as the guy just stares at me] “We don’t have it.”
Guy: “Do you know any restaurant that would have it?”
Me: “Hell, I don’t know, you might try Court of Two Sisters or Palace Cafe.”
Guy: “They don’t. Who else?”
Me: “I really don’t know. Sorry.”
The guy then turns and walks out the door, leaving said door open, without another word. Now, anyone who knows anything about me knows that, first and foremost, I'm an easy-going guy and more than willing to help out anyone in any way I can. However, there are three things anyone considering similar action as this dingbat should consider before just blowing through the door.
Number one, I’m a cook, not a restaurant guide. The apron should be a giveaway.
Number two, this is New Orleans, not Paris and “Creole” is not synonymous with “French”, cuisine-wise. It's not even close and serious epicureans would laugh, laugh if it were suggested to be so in their presence.
Number three, dude, don’t just walk into my kitchen, especially if you're going to bark orders and cop an attitude. That’s a good way of getting something that’s either sharp or recently exposed to flame thrown at you.
Damn tourists.
Monday, April 5, 2010
Damn tourists
Back before Mardi Gras, I was drinking at the Chart Room with a rather nice girl named Veronica. I'd met her the week previously and we hit it off as folks in bars often do. I don't remember how the conversation got around to this, but she said something along the lines of the following:
"New Orleans will fool you. It will be so cool to you and then knock you on your ass just when you get comfortable." Ever since then, I've been waiting for the shoe to drop. Either someone will steal my car or I'll get mugged or someone will break in or something will happen, and them that know me best know I can worry like nobody's business. I've just been waiting on it.
So, I get off work tonight, and after having a sandwich and cleaning up a bit, I decide to go to Cosimo's to drink a few cold beers and get some reading done. I sit around for almost two hours, shoot the shit with Lauren the bartender and head home. I get maybe 20 feet from my apartment door and notice, for no particular reason, a red Nissan Titan pick-up truck with two fratboy-looking dudes in it and a GPS system. About the time they get to the corner of Rampart and Dumaine, I hear heavy footfalls coming up behind me.
Before I can really react, WHAM, I see stars. Some asshole just hit me in the side of the face. He runs on and the truck door opens to let him inside. I holler out, "Why'd you hit me, asshole?" To which he wittily replies, "You're the asshole." "No," I come back, "What was the point of that?" I swear, he stopped to think a bit before he jumped in and drove off. The truck was too far away and I was still seeing stars so I couldn't get the license plate and all I could see of the attacker was a baseball cap, a blue sports jersey and khaki shorts. Had I been able to make a positive ID, I would have called the cops.
Long and short of it is I have a pretty nasty cut under my right eye and it's starting to swell a bit. Plus, I have a roaring headache. It wasn't much of a punch, frankly. He drew blood, which has already stopped bleeding, and I was staggered a bit, but I didn't go down. He obviously wasn't in the mood to hang around and didn't try to steal anything, so it was a completely pointless act of unnecessary violence that will, at most, result in a headache tomorrow morning, some jokes from my co-workers and worry from Momma.
Welcome to New Orleans, I suppose.
"New Orleans will fool you. It will be so cool to you and then knock you on your ass just when you get comfortable." Ever since then, I've been waiting for the shoe to drop. Either someone will steal my car or I'll get mugged or someone will break in or something will happen, and them that know me best know I can worry like nobody's business. I've just been waiting on it.
So, I get off work tonight, and after having a sandwich and cleaning up a bit, I decide to go to Cosimo's to drink a few cold beers and get some reading done. I sit around for almost two hours, shoot the shit with Lauren the bartender and head home. I get maybe 20 feet from my apartment door and notice, for no particular reason, a red Nissan Titan pick-up truck with two fratboy-looking dudes in it and a GPS system. About the time they get to the corner of Rampart and Dumaine, I hear heavy footfalls coming up behind me.
Before I can really react, WHAM, I see stars. Some asshole just hit me in the side of the face. He runs on and the truck door opens to let him inside. I holler out, "Why'd you hit me, asshole?" To which he wittily replies, "You're the asshole." "No," I come back, "What was the point of that?" I swear, he stopped to think a bit before he jumped in and drove off. The truck was too far away and I was still seeing stars so I couldn't get the license plate and all I could see of the attacker was a baseball cap, a blue sports jersey and khaki shorts. Had I been able to make a positive ID, I would have called the cops.
Long and short of it is I have a pretty nasty cut under my right eye and it's starting to swell a bit. Plus, I have a roaring headache. It wasn't much of a punch, frankly. He drew blood, which has already stopped bleeding, and I was staggered a bit, but I didn't go down. He obviously wasn't in the mood to hang around and didn't try to steal anything, so it was a completely pointless act of unnecessary violence that will, at most, result in a headache tomorrow morning, some jokes from my co-workers and worry from Momma.
Welcome to New Orleans, I suppose.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)