Lycia and Jeff planned to have me over for dinner on Wednesday, so I slogged through a day of work as planned and got kind of bogged down. Called Lycia—I had offered to come over and help her clean up the house for Jeff’s parents’ visit, or do whatever was needed for the business—but she and Lee were on their way to the West Bank to do tons of exciting errands like buy toilet paper in bulk and such. I was welcome to come along, and declined.
As it happens, they could not have fit me in the truck along with the bags and boxes and pallets and piles of crap they bought. I cabbed over to their double shotgun in the 8th Ward around 7 and Jeff was hard at work setting up the web site for Reecy’s tour—the Rebirth Ninth Ward Tour—so I poured myself a whiskey and soda and sat on the porch with Danny, the neighbor/tenant, and watched the drug dealers next door do their work. He said when I pulled up in a cab, he thought I was “looking to buy,” which I couldn’t understand for a minute until I saw the dealers doing their thing. Black kids; white clients. Nice.
Made him an Old Overholt and soda as well, since he’s a cook at the Country Club and was at the tippy end of his paycheck. Finally, Lycia and Lee pulled up, parked on the banquette and proceeded to unload the truck full of dry goods. We wanly offered to help, but they were quite stalwart about hauling the stuff inside. Danny told me that they had asked him to help load their newly bought, newly dysfunctional lawn mower into the truck to get it fixed or return it, and promised him a six-pack for his efforts. Then he saw Lycia and Lee easily tossing the thing in the back seat, and there went his six-pack. That’s why I made him a drink.
Lee mixed up a batch of Pisco Sours, found them wanting, and poured them out. Out came the egg whites again, and she produced four lovely drinks. We moved on to iced tea vodkas while blues played on the iPod and I chopped ingredients for a mango salsa. Lycia pan-fried salmon steaks and roasted asparagus, and we ate happily—even Jeff, who had come out for the food—and had a good time. Jeff passed around the bacon praline he’d bought at Cochon for our dessert. Lycia drove me and Lee home and I went to bed, having forgotten to tape “Top Model” again.
For Thursday, we planned on a girls’ night out at my place, so I woke up early and went to Croissant D’Or for croissants and a petit baguette. Ran into Lee on the way to Rouse’s (she was going to work at the Faulkner House) and she said she’d be at the Spotted Cat to see Sophie around 6:30. I got some nibbly bits, cheese, Zapp’s, sausage and strawberries.
Worked all day and texted Michelle to meet me. I got to the Cat around 6:30 and Michelle showed up. We watched Sophie sing and … that was it. No one else came. I felt so lonely. Texted Lee and Lycia but heard nothing back (still haven’t). Weird night. I didn’t sleep for shit and woke up around 5, unable to stay in bed.
Today, I had to vacate the apartment to make room for Scott and Beth, a couple I’d met in Pirate’s Alley last year. He’s a professor at the University of Indiana; she’s an artist whose work is really good. I offered them Sans Souris, since it was my last weekend, and they gratefully and kindly offered one of Beth’s paintings as payment, which was more than sweet.
Got up absurdly early, packed my stuff, humped it over to the guest house, then went back for another load. Stopped at La Peniche for a Bloody Mary and told Tyrone I’d give him the leavings of Jeff’s friend who had stayed in my place for that one weekend as a late birthday present.
Horrible morning; got no work done. I scrubbed the apartment, went to Jackson Square and fed the pigeons, stopped in at Faulkner House to buy a couple of books and chat with Joe, bought a box and some tape at the French Quarter Postal Shop, replenished toilet paper and paper towels, did a couple of loads of laundry, then took over the last of my stuff. Brought Tyrone his gift, sat outside at La Peniche and read a new translation of “Sir Gawain and the Green Knight.” It’s fantastic! I had no idea.
I ate some lonely cheese, bread and sausage, packed the box and dropped it off back on Bourbon, then stopped in at the Golden Lantern to say goodbye to Jimmy—he’s off to Florida for the weekend—and went back to the guest house to read some more. A couple of hipster types sitting on the steps of the Bordello Room invited me to hang with them, so I did. Katie and I don’t know what his name was. They are friends of a friend of Jeff’s whose getting married this weekend. They made me a rye and ginger and we hung out, taking in the scene. They were fascinated by the woman in tight curlers and a bright blue sweat suit mowing her lawn next door. He got surreptitious pictures and showed me an awesome video that a director friend of his in Portland did for a band called Red Fang. We were discussing LARPing because it’s Pirate Weekend. The pirates were massing at R Bar in preparation for a parade to kick off the weekend.
Beth called from the airport so I went inside and futzed around until she called again, then went over to meet them. They are as enthusiastic and fun as I remembered, and loved the apartment. I showed them around, agreed to meet for a late breakfast tomorrow, and came home to sit in the back yard and listen to Rachel have what sounds like a really fun party in her house in the back, I guess the slave quarters.
The parade came by just now—a shit ton of people dressed as Jack Sparrow and his wenches—so I went and sat on the Bordello stoop and watched. I raised my glass whenever a pirate looked over, and a girl ran up to me and said, “I see you lurking in the shadows” and put seven strands of beads around my neck, which I am wearing now. Tiny pink dice are involved.
Tomorrow, nothing on my plate but packing and leaving.
