I woke up around 2 pm. We looked out the window and the parades were going right past us, plus we were kitty-corner from Mother’s Po Boys. We went over and got in line at Mother’s. They had a cop working the line to make sure everyone followed protocol.
We ordered a Ferdi (roast beef, ham, and pan drippings known as “debris”), a roast beef sandwich, grits, red beans and bread pudding. We could only manage to eat one sandwich and some bread pudding. One tip I learned…take the sandwich and turn it upside down. That way the meat doesnt fall out the soggy bottom. We were stuffed. That sandwich was a revelation for Kristina.
And we made some new friends
A parade started going by and I ran out for a quick sec to watch. I was almost immediately beaned right between the eyes with a full dozen bag of beads. OUCH!!! There is an art to parade watching.
Kristina came out and we got caught up in the fun. The mood was festive, everyone was cool, it was the exact opposite of Bourbon Street. We spent around two hours out there, and caught a bunch of stuff. But then as I was going long for a doubloon, I fell on my ass in the gutter and broke the lens right off my new digital camera! But at least the pics are still accessible. And Kristina got a great shot of me falling down. Then Kristina got beaned in the head with a full bag of beads, so we returned to the hotel and relaxed in the jacuzzi.
Sunday evening we walked down to the Bacchus parade. We had been led to believe it was a somewhat risque parade, but there were kids on the floats and it was your standard parade. It had a football theme this year, so we weren’t that into it.
The crowd was not as cool as the day crowd. One guy in particular managed to pull off a triple-header of spilling my own beer on me, screaming at ME for it, and copping a feel off Kristina. Here is what happened: a float rider had tossed some beads to me, even though I was standing away from the crowd with my beer. This guy leapt in front of me to intercept the beads as if he were taking a bullet for the president. Then he screamed at me when my beer spilled. As I yelled back at him, an incredibly smooth local woman took my by the elbow and led me away, saying, “Look! Look at that! You have to get a picture of that!” (Look at the birdie, look at the birdie…) I took the obligatory picture, accepting her intervention. Then I got hit right in the eye with a huge bag of beads.
After a fresh beer and bag of ice, we continued walking along the parade route. Someone yelled in my face, “Peristyle!!!” I stared at him stupidly, dumbfounded that he knew my favorite restaurant, before recognizing him as the maitre d’. We asked him where we should eat, and he yelled over the marching band,
“Eat Elvis Presley!!!!
“What????”
“Go Eat Elvis Presley!!!”
“What????”
“LeKit Brossree!!!!”
“Oh, Le Cote Brasserie!!!”
“Kristina asked, “What’s a brossree??” Then she took a bag of beads in the side of the head.
At Le Cote Brasserie, we took seats at the bar and ordered appetizers (tempura shrimp and crab cakes). When I returned from a restroom break, I found a Phish-type guy cozying up to Kristina. He was in the middle of a hard-luck tale about how he had no place to stay. I told him to go to Le Richeleau and ask them to call him a cab.
