Last time I went to New Orleans (man, there's a phrase I never thought I'd be lucky enough to use) I was with a very scrupulous group, one of whom forgot her photo ID at the hotel when we went out to Bourbon Street. We ended up all standing in the rain, leaning in over the rope barrier of a little bar to listen to the band onstage, for probably an hour. Right now all I can think of is that little bar, and who's on stage right now, who's going to be playing the later shift, who's going to step out and head down to Jackson Square in the moonlight... who's going to stop at Cafe du Monde afterwards at 3 in the morning and stand around waiting in line to leap at a sugar-covered chair as soon as it's vacated, then sit there with a bag of beignets and a hot chocolate, watching the drunks go by... whoever that bum is, she's not me, and I hope she knows how lucky she is.
No comments:
Post a Comment