Days Five and Six

If we kept up with the pace of days one through four, you'd probably have to scrape me off the floor by now.

Day Five, Sunday, we decided to take it easy a bit. Since we're in a Shoney's Inn, we decided to just wander next door to the Shoney's for their breakfast buffet. Good thing that's what we wanted, too, since it's apparently the only thing on their menu currently.

After that, we went back out into the world, for a little more driving. When we had gone to the Columns for my reunion on Saturday, we had driven down St. Charles Avenue, and Dick was admiring the houses in the dark. I promised we'd go take a look at them in the daylight.

St. Charles Avenue was largely untouched, being higher ground. We drove from downtown to uptown, complete with a side trip to my old stomping ground of NOCCA. I should point out that NOCCA moved long ago to a new campus in another part of town, so the photos I'm posting are of an already abandoned building. At least I assume it was abandoned: the name of NOCCA is still above the door.





After that drive, we decided to go in search of dinner. I thought, somehow, that armed with my list of "restaurants that have reopened", I was set. Nope. Just because a restaurant has "opened" technically, doesn't mean they keep anything resembling normal hours. Or are opened seven days a week. Or have their usual menus.

After a few misses we ended up at R & O's, which is not to imply it's a bad choice - it's always been a favorite - but wasn't necessarily what I had a hankering for at that moment. But that sort of sums up what it's like: you don't necessarily have access to what you want. You have to take what you can get.

After a very fried dinner (fried shrimp! with french fries!) we paused back at the hotel, and then on to the west bank to meet the boys (Dane and Michael) for coffee. For the non-New Orleanians reading this blog, the west bank is the equivalent of the Valley. In terms of snobbery and perceived distance. In fact, they are so similar, that the week of the hurricane, my head was so fully immersed in New Orleans that when I had a meeting in the Valley, I kept saying to Dick that I had a meeting on the West Bank. I must have said it three or four times before I finally realized what I was saying.

But that's how much I love the boys.



We sat and talked til midnight, which is rare in the city these days, and I think they were keeping the place open just for us - which we thanked them profusely for.

Day Six, we slept in quite a bit, and started the day with lunch at Radosta's, home of some of the best po-boys in the city. (They also used to make the best onion rings on the planet, but they don't offer them any more - everyone and their limited menus - but considering how much crap I'm eating on this trip, that's probably not a bag thing.) It's a cool place, where everything's on the honor system. You order your food, and then if you want drinks or chips or whatever, that's all out in the dining area, and you just take what you want. When you're done, you go up to the counter where they have the ticket for your food items, and you tell them what else you've consumed.

Back to the hotel for a bit, where I proceeded to call all of the people I want to see this week. Connected with precious few; made a lunch date with my little brother Leon for Wednesday, and made a coffee date with my agent and friend Becky for later that day.

Becky is an amazing woman, and all agents should be like her. She rocks. It was so great to see her. I've known her since I was ... well, I've known her for more than half my life. Wow.

From there, dinner with my dad; we first attempted a closed restaurant (shocked, I tell you), and then on to a new-ish restaurant. Same owner, similar menu, different name. I have to admit to being slightly disappointed in the food; but as that's only my second complaint in six days, I guess that's OK.

Then back to the Columns for drinks with Michael. Seriously, we couldn't figure out where we could go that would be open! But as a hotel, odds were good the bar would be open late.

We arrive, and after greeting Michael, head back to the restroom. As I'm headed this way, I see a familiar face. We get closer to one another, and he looks at me like he knows me ...

"Matt?"
"Tracy?"

Speaking of people I've known nearly half my life, Matt is an old friend, a photographer, who I had lost touch with a few years ago, and after my computer crashed, stood no chance of reconnecting. I had always wondered what had happened to him after the hurricane, if he was OK.

And there he was, having a cup of coffee at the Columns, to listen to some live music in the next room.

He joined us as well, so we had a chance to catch up, reconnect, and trade contact info.

New Orleans is thisbig, I tell ya. One of the many many reasons I love this city.