As a 40th birthday gift to Mr Patton, we dashed off for a weekend of mirth and merry in New Orleans, our favorite non-Brooklyn American city. It was a magical 85 degrees in mid-October, and the bartender at the Court of Two Sisters filled our cups with just the right mix of vodka, tomato juice, and Worcestershire before we ambled past the rows of cast-iron balconies and turettes and great cathedrals.
Out itinerary was mostly the result of being led by the spirit of what moved us. We ate fresh-off-the-boat oysters (the shells were still covered in mud). acquired some fetching vintage-wear (including the feather-bedecked hat pictured here), visited our favorite haunts (R Bar, the Royal Sonesta, Lafittes), and noshed on the best po’ boy I have ever eaten (at a place called Killer Poboys, located in the backroom of the Erin Rose bar in the French Quarter). We took in some of the best damn live music you are likely to see anywhere (the crazy-good New Orleans Suspects, who played ’til almost 2 AM at the Maple Leaf, and the transcendent John Boutte at his weekly show at d.b.a.). We had conversations with drag queens, saw no less than five second line parades in one day, and danced with the local bon vivants at an impromptu Electronic Dance Music party in the crosswalk at the corner of Bourbon and St Philip.
Occasionally, we captured the here and there in photographs.
“America has only three cities: New York, San Francisco, and New Orleans. Everywhere else is Cleveland.” -Tennessee Williams
Copyright stuff: Photographs of me are by Mr. Patton. The photo of us together is by our friend Sam. The rest are by me.
And how is your heart, soul and spirit today?