Snake Drive, Alligator, Frenchman, Bogalese, and the Ghost in the Sheraton

This one might be a bit disorganized...

***

I'm back from New Orleans, where I had a fine time attending an agency conference.

Well, it had some hiccups. Like showing up to find that my room wasn't paid for. Or that I wasn't actually registered for the conference.

But I got those things taken care of.

***

Friday the conference organizers were kind enough to give us some time off. My coworkers chose to do things in the French Quarter while I rented a car and drove to Ponchatoula to see some family.

The car, a Mercury Sable, was a certified piece of junk. It smelled like old sweat and smoke, and three of the first four times I tried to start it I got no response.

But folks fleeing hurricanes had taken one-way rental cars out of the city, and not much was available. The Sable and I hit the road.

***

The radio in the car was set on 90.7. As I drove down I-10 and up 55, the first song I heard was "Snake Drive" by RL Burnside.

THIS, my dear reader, was a good sign.

They went on to play Clifton Chenier, Boozoo Chavis, Son House, Bobby Bland, Sonny Landreth...

I kept it on that station the whole time.

***

And on 55, just as the marsh turned into Lake Pontchartrain, I saw an alligator in the shallow water. Cool.

***

My instructions for meeting my great aunt Beverly, whom I'd best describe as an 82-year-old Cajun hobbit, told me to take the exit and meet her at "the second juke joint on the left."

And there she was. She left her car in the parking lot, complete with the keys in the ignition.

***

As we walked into the Belle Maison nursing home, a little band was playing. They had a dobro, guitar, bass, washboard, banjo, spoons, and a man with seven harmonicas.

God I love Louisiana.

Then, in she came, my dear Babbi.


She's 87, and frail. Her mind isn't what it once was, but she was focused and present for much of our hours-long visit.

We ate dinner there, and caught up about past and present family.

She and her sister Beverly told me about their father, a Frenchman named Pierre Poursine. He brought the dial tone to Tangipahoa Parish, and since his parents had come to the port of New Orleans directly from Normandy, he couldn't stand the mangled "Bogalese" French the locals spoke.

We had a long, frank discussion about the state of the family. I was introduced all around. Babbi and Beverly bragged on my master's degree, but I made it clear: I'm the second person in this family to get one; Babbi was the first.

***

Parting was bittersweet, of course, as these days I walk away from any visit with Babbi fearing it could be the last.

I will write her letters. I will.

***


The view from my room on the 43rd floor of the Sheraton was simply amazing.

***



***

Saturday, after attending several sessions, we had a break of several hours before the evening soiree (more on that later). My coworker, Denija, loved her room, and took advantage of her stash of comic books to kill time.


I headed into the French Quarter.

Almost immediately I ran into a commotion.

Recognize this hair?


Yeah, that's Richard Simmons, greeting fans there.

***

There in the street was a musician, a man playing slide guitar

He was doing a cover of RL Burnside's "Snake Drive."

***

I went into a few shops, including the Vampire Boutique, where I bought Bride of the Fat White Vampire, sequel to the highly amusing Fat White Vampire Blues by Andrew Fox.

***

Sometime in the mid-90s when I went into this courtyard in the Quarter, a man was relieving himself in plain sight.

This time, there was a coffee shop. I stopped and had a cup.
***

Back from my little jaunt, I summoned Denija and we headed out for a museum tour, dinner, and some music at a place called the Cabildo. I believe that's where the papers for the Louisiana Purchase were signed.

But... there was no bus. There were no coworkers, no volunteers around... the event was due to start in 13 minutes, and we didn't know a darn thing about it.

After conferring with a valet and a cabbie, we figured out where it was and walked over.

At the door, they wanted our tickets.

Uh... what tickets would those be?

Some $40 tickets we were supposed to have bought.

Ah, fudge. Time to go with Plan B, which was... well, nothing.

We walked to the river, took a few photos, and headed back to the hotel.


The St. Louis Cathedral at Jackson Square.

*


How many french fries do you think you could fit into my nose? (Stolen from Whit)

*



***

Denija had some things to take care of back at the hotel. She went up, and I headed back into the Quarter to seek my dinner.

I headed across the street and put my name on the waiting list at the Palace Cafe.

Finally they seated me under the staircase.



I had surf and turf, featuring asparagus risotto, and the best scallops I've ever had.

I was living large. I headed back to the hotel.

***

I wasn't sleepy, even though it was getting late. I began to wander the hotel like some old ghost, riding the escalators and just exploring the building.


My homage to Spike Lee...

The hotel was nice, though the gym didn't have a heavy bag. Dang.

*


Taken in the lobby at midnight. Sometimes BB goes a wee bit crazy.

*

I hit the restaurant for dessert, but they'd just closed. So I headed for the lounge, where I had some apple pie a la mode.


Life
was
good.

***

I stayed up until almost 2am watching a Chris Rock performance on HBO. The neighbors must've thought there was a maniac in the next room, cackling like I was.

And they might have been right.

***

7am came very early, let me tell you. I'd packed the night before at least.

They sent a bus to carry all us agency folks back to Louis Armstrong International Airport.

I had a fine breakfast, and took in some of the sights there in the airport.

This big mural got my attention. See that banjo player? That's Danny Barker. I had the good pleasure of spending some time with Mr. Barker once.

***

It was a really good trip. I spent a lot of time with my family, hung out with my nice coworker Denija some, and had lots of time to just follow my whims there in the Crescent City.