Not By Bus
BC emailed on Monday. There were no words or pictures or links in the email because all he wanted to say was What Up? and he said that in the subject line. Some people are gabby and some people are not. I emailed back and said, Hangin. I do not have even remotely the same volume of people communicating with me, by email or by any other means, as does BC, so I considered maybe I should be more loquacious. I added some words that drew a picture of me as on top of so much Mt. Pleasant related business that my fingertips were burning just getting it all out. He doesn't really give a damn. In his reply he just wanted to know did I want to fly with him and son, Middle BC, to New Orleans for a day, where he had some business to consider, and then to East Texas to see his parents. A 48 hour whirlwind. I have enjoyed his parents for 43 years and they have very politely tolerated me for all those years. I said yes I did. I called some contractors due the next day and rescheduled them for future dates. BC can travel by Greyhound bus but he chooses instead to fly in small six seater jets.
The next day we left out of the Manassas airport and arrived in New Orleans a couple of hours later. A rent a car immediately pulled up to the plane and we signed some papers and headed to the Pontalba Apartments in the French Quarter. I used to find tourists very tiresome when I lived in New Orleans and now I was one. It is a lucky thing that I have some experience with self-loathing. But I like being a tourist with BC in New Orleans. It gives me a unique perspective and there is nothing I treasure more. Would I treasure it as much if I had spent 20 hours on a Greyhound bus to get there? I will have to get back to you on that.
BC had to schmooz with some business associates on the balcony so Middle BC and I went for a walk. We came out the door onto the flagstone outside Jackson Square and past the film crew for a new New Orleans-based TV show called K-ville. I do not even want to know what K stands for but if it stands for Kafka I will watch the show. We turned right, past the Cabildo where the Louisiana Purchase was consummated, next door to St. Louis Cathedral, under which the Baroness Pontalba's husband is buried and then entered the gates of the Square, to the backside of Andrew Jackson up on his horse. A man said he was locking up the square so we exited out the side gate and walked across Decatur and up the steps to where sits the canon. A man and a woman were getting married up there and we sat and watched some of that while people speaking Portugese and French strolled by.
On the river sitting on an iron bench I looked at the glittering brown water of the Mississippi River and MBC looked, tired. BC called and said find a restaurant and he would meet us there. We headed back and a man with some handicap wanted to recite for MBC a poem. It was a very nice poem about respecting your father. I gave the man three dollars but he said that he had not been fishing for a handout. I insisted though because if there was ever a poem worth three dollars it was that one.
MBC suggested we eat at a little tourist dive he had seen so we went there and called BC and he came down. We ordered drinks. MBC had a Shirley Temple, I had a Budweiser, and BC had water. After dinner MBC wanted to go back to the apartment and watch TV but BC thought we should take a buggy ride so we did. The last time I had taken a New Orleans buggy ride was with my father on a business trip 35 years previous, when I was about the age of MBC. I don't know many people in New Orleans so I was not concerned about, as a former resident ghetto chronicler, being spotted doing the quintessential tourist activity. As the buggy driver crossing Bourbon St. on St. Louis recited his specious version of New Orleans history I heard someone call out my name. It was my friend and next door neighbor from my house on Rocheblave, The Chauffeur. I got off the buggy and we caught up a little, standing in the street. If I had to be spotted by someone I guess The Chauffeur would have been one of my top choices. Hey, uh, don't tell anyone you saw me riding on a buggy through the French Quarter. He laughed and said my secret was safe.
After the buggy ride MBC really wanted to go home but his father, with admirable patience, made his case for hanging outside of bars on Bourbon St. to hear live music.
Thirty minutes later we were back at the apartment and I fell asleep on the couch.
The next morning BC went off to a conference and I waited for MBC to wake up. He didn't really want to go for beignets so I offered to bring him some but he said he wanted to do that with his father. I said I would go get him something else and he said he would like a York peppermint patty, some spearmint gum, and a Dr. Pepper. I went up the street to the A&P and while there Mrs. BC called. I told her what I was doing and she questioned the wisdom of this breakfast choice. I concurred and went over to Matassa's and got an egg sandwich and brought it back. MBC spent the rest of the morning in bed watching Sponge Bob while I burned some CDs for BC. I called my nephew and he came over and lightly made fun of me for being at the Pontalba. We caught up on life as it is and about 12:30 BC called and said he was ready. MBC and I lugged the bags over to the Vieux Carre parking garage and loaded up the rental car and drove over to the conference hall and then over to the Lakefront Airport, the buildings of which are still tattered from that storm two years ago.
In EastTexas I enjoyed the comfort of extend family as represented by BC's parents and one of his brothers who also lives in the area. Years ago the brother and I used to ride our bikes to some trails along the Trinity River in Dallas and hunt each other with BB guns. I talked politics with BC's dad and received from him some gifts intended for Bernadette, whom I will see in NY later this week. BC's mom and I talked about the limitations of small town life and agreed that the single most limiting factor was the scarcity of people with whom you could be your stupid self.
This morning I woke up at Mt. Pleasant.
View current page
...more recent posts